#something about arthur stopping on the side of the road to pick flowers for her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysweetestcreature · 4 years

Text

Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies

Words: 24.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death...smut?

Summary: Why can’t two people who are meant for each other get it right?

***

They’re fighting again. All Y/n can do is shut her eyes in the hopes that when she opens them, everything will be okay. But no amount of wishing can drown out the noise.

“I can’t keep pretending like everything is fine! It’s not. You know it isn’t, Matt,” she hears her mother erupt between sobs. Lately, it’s been the same angry words shouted at one another over and over again. Y/n takes her baby sister, Ava, in her eight-year-old arms. She hugs the baby close. If she can’t block the screaming out, at least she can protect her sister from it.

“Grace, please.” It’s her dad’s voice. She’s never heard him sound so desperate. “What about our family? The girls need you. I need you! You can’t just walk away from us.”

There’s a sudden silence that follows. At first, Y/n thinks that maybe her parents have reached a resolution. Her dad has always been good at negotiating. It is his job, after all. She’s seen him in action whenever he brings her to work with him. Maybe he’s managed to work that same magic on her mum. She gently lays Ava down on the bed, creating a makeshift barrier of pillows on either side of her, before exiting the room and running down the stairs.

Before she can reach the bottom, she’s forced to a halt when she sees her daddy slouched over on the last step. His head is buried in his hands, his shoulders are shaking. He’s crying. That’s a sight she’s never seen before. He’d always been the picture of bravery and strength, but now that’s been washed away and replaced with someone who looks broken beyond repair. She doesn’t recognize him.

Where is her mum? She slips past her dad, despite wanting to throw herself in his arms for comfort. Besides his sniffling, the house is quiet. There’s no trace of her mum. It scares her.

“Where’s Mummy?” she asks meekly, turning to her father.

He doesn’t respond, but instead, he brings his hands out of his hair, and stares painfully at the door. Without thinking, she throws it open, the sun’s light momentarily blinding her for a few unhinged seconds. It’s only the screeching of wheels on road that brings her back.

“Mummy!” she cries, running as fast as her short legs can take her. Her eyes begin to swell with tears. The black taxi is still, and she’s just able to stare at her mum through its window. “Mummy, where are you going?” she pleads as she bangs on the door, but her mother doesn’t even flinch. Why won’t she look at me?

The engine starts up, and the car begins to drive away. Y/n chases after it, crying out for her mum to come back. “Don’t go! Please don’t leave me!” It picks up speed after it turns the corner. She feels herself slowing down, but even then, she refuses to stop. The distance between herself and the car becomes too massive.

“Mummy, come back!”

Arms envelop around her, and now she’s running on air. “Let her go,” her dad tells her, and she can feel his own tears against her neck. Her feet stop kicking, it’s like the energy has completely drained from her body. Her mind, however, is still racing.

***

A few days later, her daddy packs both hers and Ava’s bags, and loads them all into his car. She doesn’t ask questions, and instead busies herself with the fleeting landscape. A part of her had expected all that’s happened to be a part of some elaborate nightmare. But each morning, she wakes up to her parents’ bed left untouched, and her dad asleep on the living room couch. Ava is asleep beside her, and Y/n can’t help but think how lucky her little sister is to be living in ignorance. At three months old, she’s only just learned to hold her head up. Barely. Y/n doesn’t remember anything from that age, and maybe that’s a good thing. Had her parents always been this hostile towards one another? Had her mother done this before? What if she had? Does that mean she’ll eventually come back?

“We’re going to be staying with your grandparents for a while,” she’s taken out of her thoughts when her dad finally speaks up.

“Why?” She catches his eyes in the rearview mirror. They only ever go up to Nan and Gramps’ house during the holidays.

His fingers thump against the steering wheel, and he breathes in deeply as though to say something. It takes a moment before he answers her. “I just...I can’t do this alone.” His voice breaks, even though he tries to pass it off with a cough. “It’ll be good for us,” he says again. “You’ll see.”

When they hit a red light, he turns to look at her. He smiles weakly. No matter how much she wants to believe him, she still yearns for her mummy. It’s become especially hard in the mornings when her hair is knotted from tossing and turning in her sleep, and her dad can’t manage to tame it for the life of him. Her mum would often braid her hair, and like magic, it would remain intact all day. She always loved how gentle and soothing her mum would be as she brushed each strand with such care. That’s not to say that her dad isn’t trying, of course, but it’s just not the same.

***

Her grandparents live in a little town called Holmes Chapel. It’s pretty, she supposes. The buildings are a lot older, and the streets aren’t as busy as they are back home. She sits back and takes a deep breath. Her tummy flips a little when she thinks about how she might never see her old friends again, or her room, or even Mrs. Watson who lives next door (she would babysit Y/n and Ava whenever her mum had to run some errands).

When she looks out the window again, she sees Nan and Gramps stood on their front porch, smiles reaching their eyes.

“Where are my babies!” Nan exclaims, her arms stretched out. Her dad says a quick hello before opening up the back door. Y/n hops out, and her legs feel a bit unsteady from having been cramped in the car for all those hours.

“Hi, Nana,” she greets sadly. Nan’s smile falters slightly, but she doesn’t seem to let it deter her.

The elderly woman bends down to her height and gathers her in her arms. Over Nan’s shoulder, Y/n watches as her dad whispers something in Gramps’ ear. Although she can’t hear it, she can tell by Gramps’ reaction that it can’t have been good. “A bit peaky?” Nan asks, when she finally pulls away. She cups Y/n’s cheeks and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I just took the cookies out of the oven, actually. Let’s go check on them before your grandfather gobbles them up.”

Gramps groans behind them. “It was one time!”

Nan waves him off, guiding her through the front door with an encouraging push. “Oh, you won’t believe all the colors I bought for you at the crafts store yesterday! I know how much you love to draw,” she says. Her voice drowns out when she hears something fall outside. “Arthur Y/l/n! If you break another one of my pots, I swear to–” It leaves Y/n to wander through the hall on her own. Her grandparents’ house is quaint and orderly and smells vaguely of warm vanilla (probably from the cookies) and jasmine. The walls are covered in framed photographs of her daddy and his older brother through the years, a few of a much younger Nan and Gramps, and finally of Y/n, Ava and all of her cousins. (They live in Nice––her Uncle Brandon married a French woman named Dominique––and only ever seem to come around for Nan and Gramps’ anniversary.) Finally, below her uncle and aunt’s wedding photo, is her parents’. She tries not to stare at it too long.

***

Y/n decides that maybe spending time with her grandparents won’t be so bad. After all, her and Ava don’t have to share a room anymore, which means that she won’t be woken up by her little sister’s 3 am wailing fits. Nan’s done an impressive job decorating on such short notice, too. The walls are still plain white, but at least there are some pretty stickers of butterflies and flowers and a few of Y/n’s favorite cartoon characters. Even the windows are nicely covered with those gel ornaments that she loves to poke.

It’s all very nice, but she still wonders about when she’ll be able to sleep in her own bed, in her own house, under her own sheets.

“When are we going home?” she asks her dad as he tucks her in for the night. His hands stop in the middle of smoothening out her blanket, his eyes remaining glued to one of its printed ballerinas.

“To be honest with you, love,” he sighs, “I don’t know if we’ll ever go back...at least not anytime soon.”

“Oh.” That’s not the answer she wanted to hear. What if her mum does decide to come back? It’s still possible, right? After all, her mummy had always told her how much she loved her. She would scoop Y/n into her arms and twirl her around the room as they both laughed their hearts out. When she was sick, she’d always have her favorite tomato soup and grilled cheese. Every day after school, she’d sit down with her and help her do her homework and then give her an extra cookie if she didn’t complain.

Then another thought pops into her head. Her mum hadn’t been able to do any of that stuff recently. It had been like living with someone who looked exactly like her mum, but without all the warmth and tenderness that once was. Y/n turns away from her dad and starts to sob silently into her pillow.

Maybe she isn’t coming back, after all.

The dip in the bed from where her daddy had been finally reinflates. He’s about to wrap his hand around the door before she stops him. She calls out his name, sitting up with her arms around her knees.

“We’ll be happier here?”

His shoulders visibly relax, and for the first time in what feels like so long, he offers a sincere smile and nods affirmatively. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his smile until now. There’s something about it that she can’t quite describe, but she feels the safest she’s felt in a while.

***

Her daddy had left for the airport some hours ago. Gramps had offered to bring her along for the ride the night before, but she decided that she would rather not watch him leave. Instead, she pretended to be asleep when he came into her room and kissed her on the forehead. She knows he’ll be back in a few days, but it’s always tough when he has to go. It’s one of the other reasons they needed to move in with her grandparents, her dad has to travel a lot for work.

As soon as he and Gramps had loaded the car and driven away, she had stepped outside and sat down on the grass. That had been before the sun had totally risen. Now, it’s up high and shining its rays on top of her head. Nan, who had been surprised to see her granddaughter sitting out on the lawn so early in the morning, had asked her if she wanted breakfast, but was told she wasn’t hungry.

They’ve only been living here for a little over a week. She thought that they would’ve had more time to adjust before her dad had to fly off to wherever it is they’ve sent him. So far, things have been fine...or at least they’ve been as best as they can be. She tries not to think about her mum too much (she’s down to only once or twice a day). It’s a good thing that Nan and Gramps have a million ways to keep her busy.

Today is different, however. She’d had her daddy with her when she felt homesick. Now, she feels alone.

“Hi,” her head snaps up, and there’s a boy, maybe around her age, standing above her. He has messy brown hair that curls at the ends, his pleasant smile is complete with dimples on either cheek. It’s his eyes, however, that hold her attention. They’re like spearmint, if spearmint is even considered a color. Or maybe they’re the same shade as the stems of her Nan’s petunias. She can’t quite describe it, but she can tell that she likes them.

“Hi.”

The boy takes her response as an invitation to sit down beside her. “I’m Harry. Do you want a Freddo?” He pulls out a chocolate frog from his pocket. “My sister always eats chocolate when she’s upset, and she’s a girl, and you’re a girl, and you looked kind of sad, so...” He gives her a lopsided grin.

“I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers,” she says.

He––Harry––rolls his eyes. “I just told you, my name’s Harry.” He shifts a bit, then points to the house on the left of hers. “That’s my house there.”

“What if I don’t want to believe you?” she challenges, but she’s failing miserably not to grin at how utterly exasperated he’s getting.

With a defeated sigh, Harry shouts towards the house. “Oi, Gem!” It takes only a few seconds for a head to peak out of an upstairs window.

An older girl, maybe around thirteen looks like she could throttle him. “I’m on the phone, Harry! Bugger off or I swear I’ll––oh, no, no! Not you, Blake.” She disappears back into her room.

Y/n can’t help but giggle, and Harry turns to her, a triumphant look on his face. “See. Told you.”

Once again, he offers her the Freddo, but this time, she happily accepts it. They sit in a comfortable silence as she nibbles on the chocolate.

“I’m Y/n,” she finally tells him.

Harry studies her carefully. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Y/l/n your grandparents? Because I’ve been over there loads of times––she babysits me when my mum and Gem are busy––but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

She nods. “Me, my sister and my dad moved in last week.”

“And your mum?” he tilts his head.

Her teeth bite down on the inside of her cheek. She looks at him wearily before staring down into her lap. “It’s just us.”

“Oh,” is all he replies. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “My parents are separated too. My dad lives in the city, but I still see him most weekends.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see my mum again,” she frowns.

What he does next startles her, but she’s more surprised at how quickly she relaxes. He wraps an arm around her and brings her closer so she can lean on her shoulder. “Mum says hugs help a lot,” he says sheepishly, she can feel his eyes on her. She nods against him, and it encourages him to continue. “I’m sorry you can’t see your mum, but hey, you can always talk to me! I’ll be your friend.”

It’s her turn to look up. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

***

Y/n decides that she really likes living with her grandparents. Her and Harry are practically inseparable, spending the better part of the day together (and sometimes during the night when they have sleepovers). This means that she hasn’t cried in a long time, and she’s heard her daddy tell her grandparents that things are finally starting to look up. Her daddy looks better than he has been in ages, he doesn’t have that faraway look in his eyes anymore.

Harry usually comes over after breakfast, or even earlier when he knows Nan will be making French toast just the way he likes it. They play the entire day, a variety of games that range from hopscotch to pretend, to sneaking into Gemma’s room to dig into her stash of sugary treats because the girl has enough Freddo frogs to last her until next Christmas. He even likes to draw with her, even though she knows he rather be outside running around.

Sometimes Gramps will drive them into town, and they’ll go to the park or the ice cream parlor or their favorite Chinese restaurant. (She learns that she prefers shrimp over pork fried rice). There’s also a bakery that she thinks is the cutest place she’s ever seen. They serve all sorts of pastries and desserts that the owner, Martha, gives them for free when the rest of the customers aren’t looking. Y/n thinks that’s all to do with Harry. She’s eight, and she can already see how charming her best friend is. She’s glad that she has him by her side. He’s made her time here better than she could have ever imagined.

But soon enough, September comes along, and with it, school. Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. While she and Harry will be attending the same school, he’s a year older, which means she might not see him nearly as much as she’d like.

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see,” he tells her as they walk to school. “And we have breaktime, too. I can introduce you to all my friends, and you can introduce me to all of your new ones!” He sounds far too excited.

Y/n pulls on his sleeve, and he clumsily stumbles back a bit. “But Harry,” she whines, digging the toe of her shoe into the sidewalk. “What if I don’t make any friends?”

“You?” he gasps. “You’re like the most awesome person I know! Just be yourself.”

She doesn’t say a word, instead, she drops her head to look anxiously

“Come on.” He takes her hand in his. “I’ll be at the end of the hall if you need me.” And they walk the rest of the way hand in hand.

***

Harry drops her off at her classroom before going to find his. He promised he’d walk down with her for lunch, so at least she has that much to look forward to. When he disappears down the hall, she finally lets herself turn around to examine the place she’ll be spending the rest of the year in.

The desks are all perfectly aligned, with names of her classmates in bold and colorful writing on cards at the very front. She quickly looks for her name and takes a seat. On the board, her teacher’s name is artfully written in the center. Miss Ferguson. She must have been the one who had greeted Y/n at the door a few minutes earlier.

Y/n’s curiosity gets the best of her, and she starts committing every feature of the room to memory. The pictures of letters and corresponding objects and animals along the top of the blackboard are just like the ones from her old school. From her seat, she can see the playground, and she fantasizes about all the time she and Harry had spent on the monkey bars and hidden in the tube slide.

“Do you want to trade notebooks?” Y/n turns in her seat in the direction of the voice. Behind her is a girl with blonde pigtails and an adorable gap between her two front teeth. “My mum always forgets that I don’t like purple.”

Y/n stares down at her own notebook, which is pink with white polka dots. “I like purple.”

The girl grins widely. “Yay! You’re nice, I like you. I’m Penelope,” but as soon as she says it, her nose scrunches up in disgust. “But I hate being called that. So, just call me P or Penny!” Y/n gives a brief introduction, and the two girls trade notebooks.

“You’re new, right?” Penny asks.

“Yup,” Y/n confirms, fishing her pencil case out of her backpack. “I moved here at the beginning of the summer.”

“Really? I’ve never lived anywhere besides here before, but when I’m older I want to live in London!”

“That’s where I’m from,” Y/n says sheepishly. She hasn’t thought much about it, but when she does, she still misses it a fair amount.

Penny’s hands go to her cheeks as she gapes in astonishment. “That’s so cool! What’s it like? Have you ever met the Queen?”

Y/n giggles. “I don’t even know where the Queen lives!”

“Ugh, I’ve got so many things to teach you, then.” She and Penny make plans to hang out during breaktime and lunch.

Maybe Harry was right after all.

***

When the bell rings for lunch, Miss Ferguson’s class files out of the room in a somewhat straight-file line. Y/n walks behind Penny, her new friend is explaining all the proper ways to curtsy in front of a prince when a hand reaches out and tugs on the back of Y/n’s collar.

She spins around, ready to thwack the whomever it might be. “I leave you for a few hours and you’ve already forgotten about me?” Harry smirks.

“You just surprised me, that’s all,” she says. She’s fallen to the back of the line now. Penny stays back too and walks over to the two of them. “Harry, this is Penny! She’s in the same class.”

Penny’s eyes nearly bug out of her head and her cheeks flush a shade of pink. “Hi-hi,” she stutters. Y/n stares at her for a moment, unsure where this sense of shyness has suddenly come from. She shakes her head, it’s probably just a draft from an open window.

“Hi, Penny,” Harry returns kindly. He then turns back to Y/n. “Let’s go down to the cafeteria. I’m starving!”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Penny says, sounding much more like herself. Y/n walks in between them, feeling content.

***

By the time she’s fifteen, Y/n has all she can ever ask for. Her dad doesn’t travel as much anymore, except for trips to the London office once a month, he’s able to work from Manchester. Ava’s seven now, and therefore able to cause all sorts of mischief. In fact, just last night, she’d eaten the entire leftover cake in the fridge when the rest of the family had gone to bed. She claims it was a ghost, but the frosting smeared across her face told everyone otherwise.

Penny’s practically moved in with them. Things at home aren’t always the best for her. Her mum usually spends the days drinking, the nights clubbing, and the early hours of the morning in some stranger’s bed. As for her dad, Penny doesn’t bring him up much. He decided to reconcile with his wife when Penny was three years old, leaving her and her mother penniless and alone. And well, she hasn’t spoken to him since.

Finally, there’s Harry. He’s still her funny, sweet, and incredibly cute best friend. He’s sixteen now, far more mature than her. While they still spend loads of time together, he has his friends, and she has hers. Although, he does still come around for breakfast on the weekends––Nan’s French toast is still his most favorite thing on the planet––and they usually spend the rest of the time catching up on homework and watching movies they’ve already seen a million times. She loves how she’s never bored when she’s around him. They could be laying on the grass outside her house (much like they usually do) for hours, talking about nothing and everything, and still never run out of things to talk about.

Except in the last few months. The thing is, Harry’s got himself a girlfriend, Lia, and she doesn’t like Y/n. There’s no logical explanation as to why, but whenever Y/n tries to talk to Harry at school, Lia slips her arms around him, like she’s claiming what’s hers, and glares at her until she has no choice but to retreat. She doesn’t have the heart to tell Harry that his first serious girlfriend is a total bitch, no matter how much she wants to.

It’s a Friday night, Penny is staying over. She’s lazily flipping through last month’s edition of Vogue on Y/n’s desk.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asks.

“We’re fifteen. It’s not like there’s been much opportunity,” Y/n chuckles. She glances up momentarily from her sketchbook. If there’s a punchline, it never comes. She then gives her a look. “Why, have you?”

Penny shrugs. “Sometimes I think I am, but it doesn’t really matter. He’d never see me like that.”

Y/n doesn’t respond to this. She’s heard stories about the boy Penny’s apparently fancied for ages now, but for some reason her friend refuses to give her a name. If she had to guess, it’s probably Bobby Baker from her French class. They dated for a few months when they were fourteen, but things had ended abruptly. Sometimes she’ll see them talking between classes and while in line for lunch. Her money’s definitely on Bobby.

Not wanting to press her for details, however, Y/n changes the topic. “Harry’s probably in love with Lia. I saw them snogging at the bust stop this morning.”

Penny groans. “They’re so gross!” she pretends to gag. “Oh, Harry. You’re so handsome! Kiss me before our lips dry out! Oh, Lia, you’re so pretty. Take this flower as a sign of my undying affections!” She imitates them, doing it so flawlessly.

They share a look, and suddenly, they’re balled over in fits of laughter.

“How do they even breathe?” Y/n wheezes into her pillow. It’s not to say that she hasn’t kissed a boy before. It’s just never been as intense––or as nauseating––as that. Besides, none of her boyfriends have last long enough. Harry says that it’s all for the best, according to him, none of them are good enough for her.

“They’re twos, you’re a total ten,” he had said to her once. She pretended not to feel her heart leap at the compliment. “A ten can’t go any lower than maybe a seven.” She wanted to say that she thought he was a ten, too, but was too embarrassed to say it.

***

Penny leaves early the next morning, but first helping herself to some of the food Nan had just prepared before zipping out the door. She leaves Y/n half asleep and barely functional.

“So, what’s the gossip?” Nan teases her, pouring her a cup of tea.

“Same old, same old,” she yawns. She breathes in the steam from her mug and smiles.

Nan places a plate of French toast in front of her. “Talking about the same old things until three in the morning? If only your grandfather and I could stay up that late. Of course, we’d be doing other things that decidedly aren’t–” she pauses, and Y/n’s never been more thankful. They both turn towards the back door. “Ah, and I was just beginning to worry.”

Harry mutters a sleepy good morning, then stumbles into the seat beside Y/n. He looks at her breakfast, then looks at her. As if they can communicate silently, Y/n pushes her plate towards him.

“Harry, dear,” Nan starts, making up a new plate for her granddaughter. “How does your mum feel about you spending so much time here?”

“She’s fine with it,” he says, mouth full of bread. “As long as I bring her back some food, she says I can spend as much time here as I want.”

Nan just rolls her eyes. “Will that be banana or blueberry then?”

“Hmm...” Harry pretends to mull over the options, but Nan knows better. Y/n watches with amusement as she places both bananas and blueberries on top of the French toast, then places it on a disposable plate and wraps it with tinfoil.

She turns to them. “I’m just going to pop next door and give this to Anne.” Just before she can slide the door open, she calls one last remark over her shoulder. “Try not to burn the house down. We just had the floors waxed.”

Y/n continues to sip on her tea, and Harry hums happily around another delectable bite. They sit in comfortable silence.

“I feel like we haven’t talked in a while,” he says. He looks at her curiously. “Why is that?”

She has to bite her lip in order to stop herself from saying something she’ll regret. “Well, you know. I’ve been really busy lately.” From the corner of her eye, she can see how one of his brows shoot straight up.

“Busy with?”

“You know there’s an art show happening soon. I’ve been spending all my time in the art room.” She knows she isn’t convincing anyone, let alone him. He can read her like a book.

But if Harry is thinking she’s lying, then he doesn’t say anything. “Right,” he says aloofly. Taking another bite of his––her––breakfast, he continues. “Lia’s going to have a few pieces on display.”

This catches her off guard. “Lia’s into art? Since when?”

He gives her a noncommitted grunt. “It’s news to me too.” He takes her mug from her hands and takes a sip. “But she seemed really interested when I mentioned you were participating.”

“Huh.” She rests her chin on her fist. That’s strange. She’s never seen Lia Hall set foot anywhere near the art room. Lia’s a cheerleader and spends most of her time cheering on the school’s football team, which is how she and Harry got together. Y/n would know if they shared any common interests. At least that way, she could talk to Harry without her grumbling bloody murder under her breath.

“What is it?” his question pulls her out of thought. She plasters a smile on her face and says it’s nothing.

***

Her bedroom window is right across from his, and they’ve been using it to their advantage since they were kids. When they both had bedtimes that were too early to ever enjoy the night, they would look out their window and find the other looking right back. They’d spend the night trying to make the other laugh with funny faces and their own little game of charades.

But as Y/n looks up from her half-finished essay and through the glass, she doesn’t need elaborate hand motions to know that Harry is pissed. She wonders if he realizes where he’s standing or maybe he just doesn’t care right now. He looks like he’s trying to stay calm, but Y/n knows him better than that. While he isn’t one to yell, his voice does get tight when he’s trying hard not to.

He runs a hand through his brown locks in frustration. She feels guilty for not having the strength to turn away, but she’s just too curious for her own good. If only she could read his lips just to get an idea as to why he’s so upset, but alas, that’s never been her talent. She waits, occasionally working on her essay (occasionally), then lifting her head back up to check up on him.

When she looks up after a stroke of genius that had promoted words to pour out onto the page, he’s gone. Her shoulders drop in disappointment. Oh, well. At least all she has to do now is proofread.

“Did you know your nan is making pot pie for dinner?”

She swivels in her chair, her eyebrow tilting up. “I did.”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?” he pretends to be hurt as he falls onto her bed. “I’m wounded you would choose to withhold such valuable information from me.”

“I’m sorry?” she chuckles. Closing her laptop, she sits on the floor right beside where his head falls of the side of the bed.

He turns to her, his upside-down face grinning pompously at her. “Eh, you know I can never stay mad at you.” She thumps his forehead with another laugh, but he only continues to smile.

***

Y/n’s always loved art and how it can imitate life in the way the artist chooses. Ever since she can remember, she’s been doodling landscapes and portraits on napkins or just about any plain surface she can get her hands on. She thinks she gets it from her mum. There’s not much she can remember about her, but she does recall her mother’s love for the fine arts. And as much as she tries not to think about her, she’s happy she knows where she gets it from.

Mrs. Cuomo, the art teacher, says she has a gift, and Y/n tries not to let it get to her head, but she can’t help it! She’s already taken to looking for art programs around England. If she wouldn’t miss her family too much, she’d consider going abroad.

“Paris seems fabulous, don’t you think? I mean, they have some of the best fashion schools in the world.” Penny muses as they walk around the gallery. “French boys are a plus.”

“Is that where you want to go after college?”

“Possibly. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to afford it, though.”

Y/n nods, understanding her friend’s situation.

They continue to browse all the art on display, until stopping at Y/n’s exhibit. She has three paintings. The one on the left is an abstract portrait of Ava that she’d been working on since the last art show. It was inspired by her little sister’s fifth birthday. Dad had bought her the cutest little periwinkle dress with a grey ribbon around the waist. It’s something Y/n would’ve been over the moon for at that age. But Ava being the little rebel she was (and still is) had gotten it all dirty. Right before her party, she came trudging back into the house, a complete mess from head to toe. Y/n’s entitled the portrait Muddy Princess. On the right is a landscape of a forest with the simple name Serene Acres. Finally, the one in the middle is a sideview of a boy laying in the grass. His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed. He looks relaxed, like he’s never had a trouble in the world. As do all her paintings, this one had started off as a mere sketch born from a vision that she suddenly had just as she had woken up. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she’d make it anything more than that. But the longer she spent refining it, she just knew she had to take it all the way. There’s something comforting about him. This one in particular is Y/n’s absolute favorite.

“Oh, you’re totally going to win this year,” Penny enthuses. “I’m not saying this because you’re my best friend and I’d literally give you a kidney, but seriously. You’re golden.”

“I hope you’re right,” she says nervously. “Mrs. Cuomo said that the judges are going to be a lot more critical this year. I just hope they like my stuff.”

Penny waves her off, as if she were talking nonsense. “They will.”

“Will what?” A pair of familiar hands land on her waist, and she can’t help but smile when sees him gasp at the wall in front of her. “Woah,” he’s speechless. She pats his arm as she steps away from him, afraid that his girlfriend might catch sight of them.

“You like them?” she smiles. He nods, still unable to speak.

“So, where’s Lia’s display?” Penny asks, but Y/n can sense the annoyance in her voice. She knows all about the girl’s hatred of Y/n.

Harry stares blankly, until finally registering the question. “Oh...um. She decided not to enter, after all.” He wraps an arm Y/n once again, and this time, Y/n doesn’t bother pushing him off.

“That seems sudden,” she says.

“Well...” Harry looks left and right, like he’s making sure no one will hear them. “I guess she realized that she didn’t stand a chance.”

This makes Penny snort. “Are we talking about the same girl here? Lia Hall does not back down. From anything. I’ve seen her at the mall fighting over jeans with University kids. She’s scary as hell.”

***

She’s laying on the grass on her front lawn when Harry comes outside and joins her. His body is oriented in the opposite direction so that their eyes are aligned if they were to face each other. He doesn’t say anything more than a hello. His hands are placed on his stomach and his nose wriggles when a cool breeze brushes past.

“Lia and I broke up,” he suddenly says, but his voice is even and calm.

“I’m sorry.”

He laughs loudly. “No, you’re not.” He glances at her before facing back up. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that you two don’t get along.”

“At least I know you’re not dense.” She bites back a smile. Why is she so elated with the news? Does that make her a bad person? Who’s to say? “She was pretty awful.”

“She was hot, though,” Harry interjects.

“I suppose.”

Silence washes over them. If she were any more relaxed, she’s sure she could fall asleep right here, next to him.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What?”

“The clouds, Harry. Aren’t they beautiful?” She giggles when he squints at the grey canvas above them.

“There are no clouds,” he says flatly. He turns his head, their eyes lock.

She swallows, and she’s the first to turn away. With a content sigh, she lets her eyes droop closed. Even without looking, she can feel the way his gaze lingers, like he might be waiting for something more. “You too,” it’s a gentle request, possibly an order. He’s never been able to deny her anything.

“Alright then,” there’s an amused tone to his voice now. He breathes deeply, his own eyes closing as the air leaves his chest.

They lay motionless for a comfortable few minutes. Things are quiet between them, and only nature’s melody that plays uninterrupted.

The wind whistles, and the leaves on the trees dance along with crisp and breezy movements. As the air––which smells strongly of fall’s fiery allure––rubs against her skin and tickles the tip of her nose, another blissful smile leaves a pattern across her lips.

“What do you see?” she asks.

“Not much, honestly. My eyes are closed.”

She punches his arm. “Don’t be an arse.”

He groans out in pain. “Fine then,” he concedes. “What do you see?”

The image is vivid in her head. “Purple clouds.”

He chuckles softly.

“What color is the grass?”

“Green, of course.”

“That’s boring,” he teases.

She huffs in annoyance. “Not everything needs changing, you know.” He doesn’t challenge it.

“And the sky?”

That’s her favorite part.

“Tangerine.”

“That’s a fruit.”

“and a color.”

“Why can’t you just say orange?”

“Because,” she starts in her best ‘you better listen to me or else’ tone. “Orange is a meh kind of color. But tangerine? It’s a bit more exciting.”

“Exciting,” he repeats slowly, as though he were testing the weight of the word on his tongue.

When she opens her eyes, fully expecting him to be looking at her as though she had two heads, she’s surprised to see that his are still closed. She finds herself studying him. The way his chest steadily rises and falls with each even breath. He looks as calm as she feels at that moment. It’s then she can appreciate just how handsome he really is. Of course, she’s known it for a while (but she’d never tell him that).

So, she turns her head back towards the grey-washed sky and paints over its gloom with an image of their own.

***

Right before he starts Year 13, Harry’s dad, Des, moves to Boston. Harry tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but Y/n knows that he misses him a lot. Even though his parents have been separated for a long time, he’d at least had a good relationship with both of them. He and his dad would do “manly” things like fishing and batting at the cages. He keeps telling her that he’s fine, and it’s not like he’ll never visit him, but she can sense that something is troubling him.

It takes a bit of finesse to get him to talk, and once he does, she immediately regrets it.

“He wants me to follow him,” Harry says, scratching the back of his head. Y/n thinks she might throw up. Boston...America...it’s just so far away. The farthest she’s ever been is Italy on vacation.

She stares at him apprehensively. “Do you...umm...do you want to go?”

Harry doesn’t answer her at first. It takes to the count of five for him speak. “I don’t know. Probably not. I mean...it’s a lot to ask, don’t you think? He’s asking me to uproot my life here.” He gazes at her. “And I really like it here.”

She lets out the breath she’d been holding. She doesn’t think she’d be able to handle being that far from him. He’ll be starting University in the fall, and him going to London already feels too much. Goodbyes aren’t easy for her, and she doesn’t think they’ll ever get easier.

“At least both parents want you,” she doesn’t realize what she’s saying until it’s up in the air.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“No, it’s fine,” she shrugs him off. “It’s just, you’re lucky that both of them love you.”

Harry appears to think hard on this. “I love you.”

Her heart stops beating, her eyes double in size.

“What?”

He reddens, and for once, she can’t tell what’s going through his head. His jaw juggles back and forth, and then he coughs like he’s got something stuck in his throat. He wipes a hand down his face. “I mean, you’re my best friend, of course I do.”

Just as quickly as it had enlarged, something inside her deflates. “Oh, right,” she tries not to sound disappointed. It’s a little awkward now, but she’s at least comforted in the fact that he values her so much. She nudges her elbow against him. “Hey,” she quips.

He tilts his head.

“I love you too, doofus.”

***

Y/n’s always thought her dad to be a kind and fair man.

Matthew Y/l/n doesn’t spoil his girls, but he also knows how to reward them for a job well done. He’s also one of those approachable dads, the ones you can talk to about a crush without him getting overly protective. From when she was eight and until now, he’s always been there for her and Ava, and for that, Y/n is forever grateful.

Which is why she feels like she can discuss this one teensy little thing with him. Now, Y/n, she’s made up her mind about wanting to pursue a career as an artist. Some might say it’s insane! Risky! Financial suicide! But isn’t the threat of failure all the more reason to strive? She thinks so, and she just knows that her dad will too!

After dinner, which is when her dad is at his happiest. His belly is full of Nan’s roast, and he’s sitting next to Gramps on the couch while they watch sports. This is her chance. She’s already practiced on everyone else in the house, plus Penny and Harry, so she has a pretty solid plan on how to approach him.

“Hey, daddy,” she says sweetly, plopping between him and Gramps. He smiles at her and flings an arm around her shoulder. He returns his attention back to the telly. She gives Gramps a look, one so pleading that she thinks she might have just made him tear up, and he clears his throat and excuses himself.

“I’ve, uh, got to take a shit.” And he stumbles into the hall, Nan’s snorting following closely behind.

“So, dad, there’s something I actually want to talk about,” she starts, turning so she’s completely facing him. Matthew presses on the remote so that the screen is completely black. He prods her to continue.

Y/n chuckles nervously. No big deal. “You know how I’m like crazy about my art? I mean, I’ve won three competitions in the last nine months!”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ve been telling everyone at work that my daughter’s an artist. You should’ve seen Anthony’s face when he found out you were the one who beat his boy out for the ribbon...”

“Yeah, thanks, Dad.” She can feel herself getting excited. “And I’m so proud that I get to make you proud. I mean, you’ve given me so much, I feel like it’s the least I can do.” On her lips is her most dazzling smile.

He eyes her suspiciously. “Okay, I’m sensing something else going on here. Spit it out.”

“Well, it’s just that next year is my last year of college, and I’ll be applying to universities soon, so I was hoping that we could talk about me pursuing art.”

“Pursuing art, as in...?”

“Dad, I want to be an artist.” That wasn’t so bad, right? She can see her dad’s face waver in emotion. At first, he looks confused, then maybe a little unsure, but then he’s just unreadable. “Thoughts?” she presses.

“No.”

Had she just heard him right? “What?”

“No.”

“But, Dad–”

“There’s little to no security. The odds of you even making a decent living out of it are practically one in a million.”

“Wait, just hear me out first...”

“I’ve heard enough, Y/n. You’re not going to throw away an education on a hobby.” He sighs, and for a moment, he looks almost guilty. “Look, I’m not telling you to never paint again. I’m just saying that you need to approach this from a more realistic point of view. How about you major in something more reliable––like business or nursing––then minor in what you want?” He continues to ramble on about different prospects, but she’s completely drowned him out by now.

There’s a spot on the rug that’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Where had she gone wrong? He’s never been so forceful with his decisions before. Had she overlooked a portion of her speech?

“Mum loved art,” she whispers, but it’s just loud enough for him to hear.

Matthew stiffens at the mention of his estranged wife. “Your mother loved a lot of things. A lot more than she ever loved us.” And with that, he gets up and leaves.

***

“I think you should go for it,” she can always count on Harry to support her.

She sighs, burying her face in his pillow. It smells of coconut and lavender. After her dad had walked out, she’d ran across the yard and had tackled Harry with a hug while he was taking out the trash. He’d given her some water (God knows how hysterical she’d been moments prior) before leading her up to his room so she could calm down.

“What if Dad’s right?” she mutters. “What if this really is just a hobby?” She suddenly feels herself being flipped onto her back, his legs straddling either side of her, his eyes boring into hers like lasers. Thoughts flash through her head, and it crosses her mind that he might actually kiss her. But he remains still.

“Look at me,” he says. “You’re amazing, and you know it. I know it. This whole damn town knows it. If there’s one person I know can make it as an artist, it’s you.”

While his words do encourage her, she’s far more concerned with how close he is. She nods in acknowledgement, and he flops next to her. Both of them stare at the ceiling. She wonders if he ever feels what she feels.

“I got you something,” he says after a few minutes. He quickly turns and fishes for something under his bed.

“A present?” she doesn’t bother hiding the playfulness in her voice.

He kicks the side of her leg. “Grow up.”

“Can’t, I’m too excited.”

He pulls out a giftbag and hands it to her. “Saw this when I was out with Mum and well, it reminded me of you.”

Peeking into the bag, she immediately smiles. “Is this...is this a frog?”

“Yeah, because remember when we first met? I gave you a–”

“Chocolate frog,” she finishes. It’s a plush toy the size of a basketball and its body is the same colors as their special world. Harry must’ve picked it out because of it. He’s always been thoughtful like that. It shouldn’t surprise her, but whenever he remembers these little things, she can’t help but feel weak at the knees. She and hugs her new frog to her chest. “It’s so cute! Oh, what should we name it?”

“Well, I feel like there’s only one appropriate name for it,” he winks.

“Kaleidoscope?”

“That...that wasn’t even close to what I was going to say.”

She giggles, reaching over and bringing him in for a hug. “I’m just messing with you! We’ll obviously be calling him Freddo.” She sighs happily when his arms hold on to her tightly. Yeah, she likes his hugs a lot.

***

It’s the middle of March when Harry’s cousin comes to live with him. Jared is about his age, with the same shade of brown hair, only his is straight as opposed to Harry’s mess of wavy curls. Harry had told her that Jared’s mother (Anne’s sister, Sonya) had just passed away after her battle with cancer, and Y/n’s heart broke for the boy she barely knows. Similar to Penny’s situation, Jared’s dad isn’t in the picture. He’d left him and his mum before he was even born, and according to Harry, Jared’s always been very bitter about it.

Jared doesn’t leave his room much, only for school and for meals. Harry’s the only person he talks to because he wants to, not because he has to. They were practically like brothers before Jared had moved away, which Y/n is surprised to hear since she’s never heard of him before. But apparently when they were kids––way before Y/n moved in next door––Jared and his mum would always come over Harry’s house, and they’d play until one of them had to be forcibly dragged away. She had laughed when Harry had told her the story of how he and Jared had gotten stuck in the tree out back for five hours because the adults were so busy chatting inside.

Sometimes Y/n will stop by and personally offer him some of Nan’s famous chocolate pie, and he’ll accept it only to give it to Harry once she leaves. Of course, she knows it’s nothing personal against her, it just makes her sad that she can’t help someone who is so important to her best friend. It’s hard for her to see Harry worry so much about him, and she really is trying her hardest to help him out. She doesn’t think Jared hates her, if anything, she always catches him staring at her in the halls when he thinks she doesn’t notice. That’s a promising sign, right?

“I happen to think he’s very good looking,” Penny tells her as they walk to Physics. “He kind of reminds of a young Leo.”

“You said the same thing about Harry last week,” Y/n giggles.

“They’re related, aren’t they? Maybe beautiful genes run in the family.”

Penny looks at her. “What do you think?”

She stares back at her. “About?”

“You know, Jared!”

Y/n’s lips purse together. She hadn’t given him much thought, honestly.

***

She’s glued to her sketchpad while sitting on the front lawn when she notices a shadow approach her. Not bothering to look up, she pats the spot beside her.

“Nan says that the pudding will be ready in ten,” she says.

“That’s...cool.” That’s not Harry.

Tearing her eyes away from her latest drawing, she turns her head and sees the last person she expected. “Jared! Hi!” she squeaks.

He offers her a side grin. “Hey,” is all he says. He looks down into her lap. “You’re really good.”

“Oh, thank you.”

He rubs his hands on his jeans before settling them around his ankles. “Uh...do you mind if I sit here with you? You can say no, I was just feeling a little stuffed up in–”

“Of course! I love company!” she smiles broadly.

“I don’t know, you and that pencil were looking pretty cozy,” he suggests. She quirks a brow at him, but when the signs of a smirk begin to change the way his eyes gleam, she finally gets it.

“Jesus, that’s disgusting!” She doesn’t hesitate to slap him over the head. He sniggers in return but doesn’t say much more after that. Y/n continues to draw, but occasionally she’ll look up and catch him watching her. He immediately turns away, pretending to be busy with a blade of grass, or he’ll start whistling like it’s a sitcom.

***

It doesn’t take long before Jared finally opens up to her. He’s funny––really funny, even though most of his humor is dirty––and is constantly finding ways to make Y/n laugh. She’s found that he does a nearly perfect impression of Austin Powers, and she enjoys it very much. There are also certain angles that really highlight how handsome he is. His eyes are a deep brown, almost the same shade as his hair. There are freckles evenly spread around his nose, almost as if they’d been specifically placed there. And oh, his lashes! They’re just as long as Harry’s, except maybe even fuller. She imagines what they would look like with a fresh coat of mascara. (She jokingly brought up the idea once, and to her delight, Jared says he wouldn’t mind it one bit.)

Harry seems happy that his cousin appears to be back to his old, goofball self. He’s definitely not as stressed over trying to get Jared out of his room as he had been in the immediate weeks after his Aunt Sonya’s death. Even Anne is starting to smile more. Losing her sister had been difficult for her, but Y/n admires how she had stepped up and took her nephew in without hesitance. She’s almost positive that that’s where Harry gets his selflessness from.

“Okay, real question, would you rather give up all desserts or all cheeses?” Jared asks. He always plays this game with her. She thinks it’s cute, sometimes even thought-provoking if she’s really into it.

“Hmm, that’s a tricky one. Because what about–”

Both their eyes grow wide. “Cheesecake!”

Her head falls onto his shoulder as she laughs. She doesn’t see how Harry turns away. Although, sometimes she’ll notice how he’ll have this weird look in his eyes whenever the three of them are all hanging out together, but she thinks she’s just imagining it.

***

When Penny tells her that Jared might like her, she doesn’t totally object to the idea.

***

A few days later, Jared kisses her. It’s one of those kisses that happen when you least expect it. She’s frozen in shock until his lips pull away. It’s strange, she likes the feeling, but something seems amiss. He looks at her nervously, like he’s afraid he’s done something completely wrong. But when she finally manages to get over that initial uncertainty, a grin slowly forms on her lips, and he’s kissing her again.

***

In two weeks’ time, she sees Harry snogging Penny outside his front door. She isn’t sure how to react, but she knows there’s this weird feeling inside of her that she doesn’t like.

***

Her and Harry haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since they started dating other people. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, in fact, she really misses him. Saturday morning breakfasts just aren’t the same without him shuffling into the kitchen in his half-asleep state. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was going out of his way to avoid her. Penny says that maybe he’s just feeling awkward because her two best friends are dating. (It turns out Harry had been the guy she’d been pining over for years.)

Maybe that’s true, but shouldn’t that make it easier for them to find themselves in the same room? She’s happy that Penny’s finally happy! Things hadn’t worked out with her last two boyfriends because all they wanted was to take advantage of her. If there’s one thing she’s sure about, it’s that Harry would never cross any lines that Penny hadn’t invited him to cross.

When they’re in Harry’s car, she’ll catch glimpse of how Harry takes Penny’s hand over the console, or how she’ll feed him fries from their takeaway. It makes her happy to see them like this. Really, it does.

Jared is just as much a gentleman, too. They haven’t done anything past snogging, and she’s okay with that. She isn’t even sure she’s ready for that type of commitment. It’s not like she has this idealized fantasy about losing her virginity. She doesn’t expect it to happen in the same way as the movies, with candles and a bed full of rose petals, or any of that romantic stuff. If the time’s right, it’s right. All she wants is to make sure her heart’s a hundred and ten percent in it before she lets anyone in. She wonders if Penny and Harry have talked about going all the way.

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it.”

“Oh,” Y/n tries not to sound surprised. “And how did that go?”

Penny gives a noncommitted answer. “He says he’s willing to wait until I’m ready. But the thing is, I’m ready now!”

***

Penny loses her virginity soon after. Y/n is the first person she calls, and it’s a bunch of squealing and bragging about how perfect it all was. How gentle and attentive he’d been, and how she can’t wait to do it again. It takes everything in her to not hang up. She loves Penny to death, but some things––at least in her opinion––are left unsaid.

***

The first time she and Harry get to spend time together, as in just the two of them, is when Jared is stuck in bed with a cold, and Penny is out with her mum. It’s not exactly planned, in fact, she had only seen him from the living room window whilst helping Nan dust the mantel. Deciding she couldn’t let the opportunity pass, she drops the feather duster and runs out the front door.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets, but she doesn’t sit. It’s only now she sees the bottle of beer hanging between his fingers. He usually only drinks when he’s got something messing with his head.

He nods at her, and gestures to the spot beside him. She sits, but it feels to calculated for them. Usually, she’d plop down, not caring if their knees would brush together. Now, she’s careful to leave at least a few inches between them. And she hates how awkward things feel between them. In a matter of months, they’d gone from being attached at the hip, to barely acquaintances.

“So, what’s going on?”

He takes a sip from the bottle, his face twitching with disgust as he does so, then takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel like things should be different?”

A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair over her shoulders. She doesn’t know if the goosebumps running down her spin are from that or the it’s from the magnitude of his question. “Different, how?”

His features soften when he finally looks at her. As in, really looks at her. It feels like so long since he’s done, that it takes her breath away. He doesn’t say anything yet, but she can see in his eyes that there’s something there.

“Harry?” she whispers.

His eyes drop down to her lips, and he licks his own in reaction. Nothing seems to matter at that moment. If her mind had been juggling with thoughts before this, it isn’t now. All she can think about his him. How good it feels to be so close him, and how she wants to be closer.

Then it hits her. Jared. She’s with Jared, and Harry’s with Penny. She’d been leaning into him, but now that she’s broken from his trance, she straightens up.

Harry brushes off his disappointment with another sip from his beer. His stare lands across the street, where a pair of children are chasing each other around a tree. He drops his head, his hand wrapping around the base of his neck.

“I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow.”

She nods slowly. “Visiting your dad?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Something like that.”

Finally, he stands up, then offers her his hand so she can too. He doesn’t let go right away, and she revels in how good it feels. She smiles down to where they’re holding each other, then stares into his green orbs.

Pulling on her arm, she’s suddenly trapped in his embrace. She hugs him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulder blades and pinching his t-shirt between her fingers. It’s all a bit confusing, but she continues to cling to him. She feels his nose nudge the crown of her head before he lets go.

He turns around and doesn’t look back.

She isn’t sure what just happened, but it feels a lot like goodbye.

*** Ten Years Later

“It doesn’t feel right,” she sighs. “I can’t be the only one who’s thinking it.” He shuffles in place, eyes scanning the room around them. “What do you suggest then?”

“Take this to the empty wall by the entrance, then move the Reynalda exhibit closer to the back. It’s our main attraction, we have to make people work for it.”

Angelo nods approvingly, and she calls a thank you out to him as he gets to work. Y/n watches the rest of her staff disperse into their allocated directions, and it’s then she can finally take a moment for herself. Sometimes she feels suffocated, but at the same time so hollow.

There are so many reasons why Y/n shouldn’t be feeling as empty as she does now. After all, her life is pretty damn close to perfect. She graduated university with high honors, she has a well-paying job as director of a prestigious art gallery, and she lives in a beautiful two-bedroom apartment with her adoring fiancé who she’s been with for the better part of a decade.

She can’t pinpoint when exactly she realized that something had been missing, or maybe this feeling has always existed somewhere deep inside, and she’s just been really good at hiding it. The only person who knows about this internal battle is Ava, but Y/n doesn’t like to bother her too much since she’s busy with coursework, as well as her own problems that come with being nineteen and young.

Of course, there’s Jared. Her love. Her rock. Her other half. She doesn’t know why can’t talk about this with him. Maybe it’s too much of girl problem, or maybe it’s just guilt. The last thing she wants him to think is that he’s not enough to fill this void in her life. If anything, he’d been able to pick up all her damaged pieces when she just couldn’t. He’s great, more than. She depends on him, and he’s never let her down.

But if that’s true. Why can’t she just be honest?

***

“Right, I’m heading out now. I’ll see you–” he pauses, and she can see the concern overtake his features from the reflection of the blank television screen. He walks around their living room and kneels in front of her, his hands rubbing her lower thighs with every intention to soothe her. “What’s wrong?”

“I...I don’t really know,” she laughs, then shakes her head. “It’s silly, really. You go ahead. Go have fun with Sid.” It’s her best attempt at a smile, but it’s a weak one.

He looks at her unsurely, like he’s debating if he should protest or not. She kisses him gently on the lips.

“Go.” And she nudges him to his feet. Although she can tell he’s hesitant, he eventually concedes, leaning down for just one more peck to her forehead, then he’s out the door.

She needs to find a way to depress this strange feeling. It’s starting to affect too much of her life. A life that she enjoys, thank you very much.

Before she falls slave to her thoughts, she slumps into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of cabernet. Maybe it’s a far too generous portion, but is there ever such thing as too much wine? At least for tonight, the answer is no.

The alcohol burns her throat with its bitter sweetness, and she finds comfort in how it settles at the pit of her stomach. She breathes in deeply. This is just what she needs. It’s all in her head. Stress, probably.

Just as she’s about to rewrap herself in her blanket, the front door opens and closes with a gentle thud. She swings around, brows curling in question as Jared slips off his coat leans against the nearest wall.

“Sid will understand. You’re the one who needs me tonight.”

She leans against the arm of the couch, a moved smile playing at her lips because, wow. How did she get so lucky?

***

“I found another grey hair this morning,” Jared says. “Is this what getting old feels like?”

She runs her fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-eight, Jae. And besides, silver foxes are pretty sexy.”

“I guess I’m a bit of a Clooney.” And he wags his brows suggestively. If he’s trying to come onto her, it’s not exactly working, but she’s also not completely turned off. This is why they’re good together. After all these years he still knows how to make her laugh.

They’re about a quarter though their takeaway (and she’s so touched that Jared decided to stay home that she doesn’t even say anything about the pork fried rice) when their doorbell sounds.

“I got it, hun,” he says, placing his plate on the coffee table, and grabbing a napkin before greeting the unexpected guest.

Y/n is pleasantly surprised when Penelope falls into the seat beside her. She looks dressed for a date, but the way she blows ferociously into the air, Y/n knows that things haven’t gone her way.

Without asking, Penny helps herself to their food, moaning as she stuffs a spoonful of that same fried rice into her mouth. “If I wasn’t wearing this dress, I would a hundred percent finish this whole thing.”

“You can borrow some clothes,” Y/n offers. Her friend pretends to contemplate, but she’s the first one to stride over into the master bedroom.

Y/n pulls out a fresh pair of pajamas, and when she turns around, her mouth quirks in a mixture of amusement and suspicion. Under Penny’s dress is the daintiest set of red lace lingerie she’s ever seen. (And she has her fair share of lingerie since she knows it drives Jared wild.)

“Looks like you were in for a sexier evening,” she muses. She tosses Penny the set.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “I’ll make sure he knows what he’s missing,” she says. Y/n isn’t quite sure what she means by it, but smirks, nonetheless.

“Now...” Penny pulls her hair through the hem of the borrowed shirt, “let’s finish off that food, shall we?”

Jared doesn’t say anything when they get back, either too consumed with his egg rolls or not wanting to interject himself into the conversation. Y/n simply kisses him on the cheek as she settles back into her meal.

She glances at Penny for a moment, and her curiosity becomes overpowering. “Okay, so I wasn’t going to ask, but I feel like I have to now,” she explains. Penny cocks a brow at her. “What happened tonight.”

“He cancelled last minute. I was already at the damn restaurant when he texted saying something came up.” She stabs a piece of orange chicken. “It’s a bunch of bullocks if you ask me.” Typical Penny. It wouldn’t be fair to say that her friend is prone to trust issues, but it does take a little more effort. Ever since Harry had broken up with her back when they were seventeen, she hasn’t kept a relationship for more than a few weeks because she claims she doesn’t want to risk getting her heart broken again.

Harry Styles had broken her best friend’s heart, then disappeared to another country. Y/n hates him for that. She hates that he threw away all those years of friendship without a proper explanation. She hates that he abandoned her, especially when he knew how insecure she is about goodbyes.

But not every guy is Harry. There are good ones that will stick by you no matter what, like Jared. Y/n reaches over and brushes his bangs away from his eyes. Penny just needs to find her person, and Y/n just knows that once she does, she’ll finally feel right.

“This is that Ahmed guy from the gym, right? I don’t know, Pen. He’s a decent bloke. Maybe something really did happen.”

Penny pulls a face, like she’s just oversaturated her food with soy sauce. “Wouldn’t hold my breath. He’s got baggage, and he won’t accept that he isn’t happy to carry it anymore.”

That last bit sticks to her.

***

Her job requires her to have both a deep appreciation for art and a mind for marketing strategy. It had been the closest compromise that she and her father had come to when she had started her plight for a degree.

After spending the last of her year of secondary school having second thoughts about the plausibility of making it in the art world, she decided that maybe her dad was right, after all. He would tell her to be in charge, to take control of her life. That way, she’d never be blindsided by anything. She’s still around the world she loves––the canvas, the acrylics, the community of dreamers who share their passion with the world––just from a more business perspective. The more she reflects on those naïve teenage years, the more she appreciates the direction she’d took. She has the best of both worlds, in her opinion. A steady income, and a building full of paintings and sculptures and history. What more can she ask for?

“Y/n!” She looks over her shoulder, where Angelo, her assistant, waves some a sizeable file in his hands. He gives her a knowing smirk.

“Good news?” she teases.

Angelo hands her the file. “Sales report can confirm.”

She glosses it over, satisfied with the numbers. Looks like she’d inherited more from her dad than just his advice. “And they said Expressionism was dead.” Their last grand showcase had been an ode to the German Expressionism movement. They had drawn criticism in the days leading up to the event because some saw it as outdated. But that’s just ridiculous. Art is art. And while history remains in the past, it doesn’t mean that it can’t be appreciated. Y/n’s vision for the gallery is embrace both the old and the new.

“Degenerates,” Angelo rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Dax, Narsi, and I are thinking Damond’s for lunch. You in?”

She looks down at her watch, and curses under her breath. “Can’t,” she sighs. “I have to interview the new curator in a bit.”

“You work too much,” he says humorously, but they both know there’s truth stitched into his words. He gives a friendly squeeze to her elbow. “Bring you back sandwich?”

“Please,” she smiles. He gives her a mock salute before turning on his heel.

When he’s completely out of sight, she lets her lips fall into a frown. She examines her watch again, there’s still a few minutes until their scheduled virtual call. She uses the time to stroll the halls, something she doesn’t really get to do. Well, not for fun, at least.

Things are currently in transition, and all of the Maximalism works are finding their way onto her walls. She stops in front of one in particular that just screams color. With its carefully planned, yet freeing mixture of patterns and textures, it’s a piece to tickle the brain.

“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes widen. That voice. She feels everything from her body to her unsuspecting heart freeze.

Her grip on her own arm tightens painfully. She thinks she might turn blue from her inability to breathe at this moment.

“I’ve always liked how much of the artist we can feel. It really captures the complexity of character.”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “I agree.” She risks all and looks up, and he’s right there waiting for her. Harry. Her arms drop to her side as she feels herself grow weak.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Hi,” he whispers, then smiles. That smile. She had tried so hard not to think about how it had once been her favorite image. His dimples have caved in deeper, if that’s even possible. And his eyes, they’re the same brilliant green she remembers. “I saw an ad in the paper and thought I’d check it out.”

Something must be strangling her vocal cords because she finds that she’s unable to make a sound.

***

“And what did you do?”

Y/n drops her head to the table, not even caring if it’s dirty. With the day she’s had, it’s the least of her problems. “I was in shock! I-I think I might have screamed at him.”

Ava snorts into her drink.

There’s not much about earlier that she can clearly recall, but she does remember how she had fled to her car and driven halfway across the city to her sister’s dorm and dragged her to the nearest pub. Why? Because she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“Why would he just...show up?” she questions. “It makes no sense!”

“Probably got homesick,” Ava shrugs. “Plus, Dad says it’s been in the work–”

“Wait,” Y/n’s head snaps towards her. “Dad knows?”

The younger woman looks at her as if she were insane. “Duh, he’s the one that approved the transfer.”

“But why am I only hearing about this now?” She feels herself heating up with annoyance, anger, and something else that makes her want to pull her hair out. Ava doesn’t respond right away. She looks down at her now empty drink and watches as the ice cubes into water.

“Well,” she starts, still not bothering to meet her eyes, “ever since he left, he’s been a bit of a taboo subject for you.”

Her jaw tenses at that, and she sits back in her chair. That’s a bit of an overstatement. Y/n had reacted the way any person would have if put in her situation. She huffs with frustration. “So, what else is everyone hiding from me?”

“This isn’t an intervention, enough with the dramatics,” Ava says.

Y/n’s lips form into a straight line. She looks over the bar and tuts her tongue. “I need another drink,” she mutters. “Where the heck is Penny? She’s supposed to be working tonight.”

***

After Ava had started going to school in the city, her dad had decided to move into the London office full-time in order to be closer to both his girls. And lucky for Y/n, he’s just close enough to get information out of. She visits her dad during her lunch break because she needs answers.

“Dad, we need to talk,” she demands, bursting through his office door without any regard for just about anything. “Explain to me why...”

Matthew Y/l/n tilts his head at her with a raised brow, and the person sitting on the opposite side of his desk has an expression to match.

“Perfect,” she sneers. “We’re all here, then.”

She nearly loses it when Harry choke down a laugh while getting up and offering her his now empty seat. She takes it, but not before she glares at him and his stupid face.

Her dad looks like he’s been caught in a crossfire, and he calculatingly smooths down his perfectly ironed tie. Harry takes the seat beside hers, except he makes a point to pull it a few inches away.

“So...” her dad practically sings. “Harry’s back!”

“I can see that.” From the corner of her eye, she sees a smirk. “Why are you even here?”

Harry doesn’t seem offended despite the harsh nature of her tone. He chances a glance at her dad before turning to her. “Work,” is his first answer. He bounces one leg over the other and leans back against the back the seat. His expression softens. “But I guess I just really missed home.”

She thinks that’s bullshit. No decent person would leave everything behind without a second thought. “It took you ten years?”

“I did what I had to do,” he retorts.

“And that was to just disappear?”

“This isn’t really the place nor time...”

“Then why bother coming back!"

That manages to crack Harry’s calm demeanor. He looks at her as if she had knocked the wind from his lungs. At this point her chest is heaving, as well. She forgets where they are and that her dad is a witness to this outburst.

“I, uh,” they both turn to Matthew as he tries to find the words to appease the situation. “I was thinking we could all go out for dinner later?” He’s joking, right? He smiles as her, but with that ‘I’m your father and you don’t have much of a say in this’ look in his eyes. “How about you and Jared meet us around...say, seven? Hey, you know what? Bring Penelope, too!”

“Pen–”

Matthew swivels in his chair and practically hops to his feet. He leans down and kisses Y/n on the head. “Got to get to a meeting. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s gone. It leaves her alone with the person she wants nothing more than to get away from.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her. There are so many things she feels bombarding her all at once and there’s not one thing she can make sense of. Harry doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s typing something on his phone. His lips are quirked up in an almost-grin, and she can’t help but feel miffed that he has the audacity to pull such a face in her presence when all she can do is glower.

“I guess we’ll talk later?” he suddenly says. He slips his phone into his pants pocket. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. Like her dad had done, he gets up and starts towards the door. But before she can even hear it graze against the carpeting, he mutters one last thing. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

Her dress squeaks loudly against the leather of her seat because she must have turned too quickly. Their eyes meet, his are difficult to read.

***

“...and I’ve been trying to look for a flat, but the boss works me too hard,” Harry smirks over at Matthew. Her dad lets out a hearty chuckle as he finishes off the last of dessert.

“Well, if you’re really that overworked, it’s not at all obvious,” Penny says with a saucy smile. “Definitely still a catch.” She touches his arm, and Y/n digs her nails into her palm because it makes her feel sick. It’s ridiculous that she’s so bothered by how quickly conversation had flowed between Harry and Penelope.

Jared has an arm around the back of her chair. He looks bored with the conversation. She can’t tell if he’s irked at Harry (in the same way she is) or because he sees how much her dad likes him. That’s not to say that Jared isn’t well liked by Matthew. He did get his blessing to propose, after all. Yeah, they’ve been engaged for a while now. But so, what? Long engagements are common enough, and it does allow the two participants to fully get to know one another, as well as get close to the important people in their lives. Things just aren’t as smooth between her dad and Jared as she would like, but she supposes that’ll ease over with time.

“I wouldn’t let my current appearance fool you,” Harry snorts.

“Is that a challenge?” Penny bats her lashes at him.

Y/n can’t take it anymore. “So!” she interrupts, “Pen, didn’t you go out with that Vogue photographer last night?

Her friend gives her an odd look, but when she sees the rest of the table’s eyes on her, she waves it off. “Oh, yeah. But it didn’t end how I would’ve liked.” She gestures between her legs. “He had a little trouble getting it up.”

“Penelope Swanton,” Matthew warns, as if she might give him a heart attack. “Parental unit sitting right here.”

Everyone shares a laugh except for Y/n and Jared. The latter just stares at the tablecloth with vague intensity. It’s strange that he hasn’t made a quip all night. He’s usually the one who talks the most...well, besides Penny.

“Maybe pretty girls scare him,” Harry chuckles. “It happens to the best of us.”

A mischievous glint sparkles in Penny’s eyes. “Do I scare you, Harry?”

“COFFEE!” Y/n all but screams. “We should order coffee!” She can’t just sit there and watch her friend make the same mistakes all over again. It would be a serious miscarriage of justice is she were to let that happen.

But she can only stall for so long, and before she knows it, they’re all making their way out of the restaurant. It’s that awkward phase of standing outside and making small talk before someone has the balls to leave. Harry offers Penny a ride, and Y/n has to watch as they get into his car, laughing like he hadn’t broken her heart all those years ago.

Jared still seems to be in a mood as well, but he plays it off and tells her he’s got a stomachache from the scallops he had as an appetizer. She rubs his back as they wait for the valet to bring their car around, glaring at Harry’s taillights before he turns onto the road.

***

Y/n manages to not think about Harry for a few weeks. With the newest exhibit opening up, it’s kept her body and mind busy. By the time she gets home, she’s tired and all she wants is to put her feet up and watch reruns of Downton Abbey.

The doorbell rings, and she can’t help but groan because she was just getting comfortable. She looks through the peephole, then shakes her head knowingly. She pulls the door open.

“Don’t you have work?” she asks playfully, but she wishes she could take it back when she sees the broken look painted across Penny’s face. “Oh my god, are you alright?” She guides her friend into the apartment and sits her down on the couch.

Penny suddenly bursts into tears, her face falling into her hands as though she were hiding her shame. Not wanting to distress her further, Y/n gathers her in her arms and lets her cry it out. They’ve been through a lot together, and in all their years of friendship, she’s never seen her look so somber as she does now.

She strokes her hair, whispering her reassurance even though she’s left in the dark. Penny breaks from her hug and wipes her eyes with her knuckles before looking at her with misty eyes. “I’m...” but she starts blubbering, and nothing coherent can be understood. Y/n waits patiently until she can speak. “I’m pregnant.”

Y/n feels the color drain from her face while her head fills worry. She can’t decide who she’s worried more about, Penny or her baby. Penny is an adult is capable of making her own decisions, but she can also be reckless. She can barely pay her rent on time and her work schedule isn’t the best either. A baby would mean growing up, but Y/n knows that Penny’s still trying to figure things out.

Then, the inevitable question bubbles in her throat. “How far along?” Penny sniffles. “About six weeks.”

Y/n feels awful that the first thing she feels is relief. Not Harry’s. “And the father?”

“I can’t tell him,” Penny cries, she lays her head in Y/n’s lap. “He’s...he has a...” She doesn’t need to finish that sentence for Y/n to understand.

“Penny...” her tone is every bit of disappointed.

***

She accompanied Penny to her first appointment to the OB-GYN this morning, and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat had been enough to drive both women to tears. It was beautiful, and the look in Penny’s eyes said all that they could. Sure, Y/n had worried about her when she first learned of the pregnancy, but that had immediately changed with just that one look.

One day, Y/n hopes to have children of her own. She and Jared have opened up the topic a few times, but they never seem to be on the same page when it comes to starting a family. He claims it’s because his job’s hours are too crazy to juggle an infant. He’s the physical therapist for the National Football team, which means he has to go with them on away games. Deep down, however, Y/n thinks he’s afraid that he’ll end up the way his father did. She wants to tell him that’s ridiculous, but she always has to walk on eggshells about that.

It’s okay, though. Until she and Jared can come to an agreement, she has no qualms over spoiling her new niece or nephew. Auntie Y/n. She likes the sound of that. So much, in fact, that she finds herself outside of a baby boutique on the high street. She wonders if Penny will be having a boy or a girl.

“So cute!” she smiles to herself when she sees all the onesies on the mini mannequins. Would it be too early to plan Penny’s baby shower? She’s so lost in hypothetical party planning that she doesn’t notice see body before they collide, and warm liquid misses her shoes by mere centimeters.

“I’m so sorry!” she rushes out an apology. There’s an unflattering brown stain on his otherwise perfect white button-up. She grabs for her wallet in her purse, hoping to at least pay for the damages, but stops when she gets a good look at him.

“You.”

The world must really have it out for her. Harry looks down at his tainted shirt. “Nice seeing you too.”

“Sorry,” she says again. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Head in the clouds?” he muses, shaking his sleeve of the last remaining drops of coffee.

She smiles tightly. “Just window shopping.”

He looks at the store in front of them, and his head snaps towards her. “Are you...?”

“No,” she replies immediately. “A friend of mine.”

For some reason, his shoulders seem to relax. He’s still incredibly handsome, though she never doubted that that would ever change. Under his wet shirt, she notices a sizeable few tattoos inked onto his chest. The sight intrigues her, and she has to stop herself from reaching out and tracing them with her finger.

“Let me pay for your dry-cleaning,” she says, tearing her eyes away from his body.

Harry shakes his head. “There’s no need, honestly. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” She really doesn’t want to be in his debt. “I’d feel better if I could make it up to you somehow.”

“No, really. It’s fine.” Why is he so stubborn?

“I insist.”

He studies her for a moment. She imagines that she can see the gears turning as he thinks.

“I’m actually on my way to a viewing, and well...I’m not really sure what to look for.”

She replays his words in her head. “So, you want me to...help you pick out an apartment?” That can’t be right.

“My car’s just over there,” he points with his chin. “What do you say?”

Alarms are sounding in her head, each one screaming a different command between her ears. A part of her is saying it’s a bad idea, that she should stand her ground and stay mad at him because of what he had done. On the other hand, the rest of her––the biggest part of her––wants to indulge in the feeling she has when she’s with him. It’s a crazy mix of fury and joy that isn’t entirely unbearable.

“Fine,” she concedes, and she brushes past him and starts towards his car. “But only because I feel bad about the shirt.” She doesn’t dare look back. She slides into the passenger seat and buckles herself in. Her stomach is doing cartwheels beneath her high-waisted pants.

Harry gets into the driver’s seat but doesn’t start the engine right away. He pulls his jacket off and places it neatly on the console. What he does next makes her regret getting out of bed this morning. Her mouth dries as he undoes every button of his shirt and reveals the tattoos she’d been fantasizing about earlier.

“Do-do you mind?” She feels her cheeks heat up, and she turns to the window in hopes to find a distraction.

“Well, I’m not going to talk business looking like I’ve just been bullied by a barista.”

“That’s completely beside the point!”

“Well, you can look now, Mother Teresa,” he says smugly. She hesitantly cranes her neck back. He’s now sporting a similar shirt, but this time, it’s dark grey. “See?”

She huffs, then mutters something under her breath. He smiles at her, like he’s just dying to tease her, but ultimately decides not to. She just glares straight ahead.

“Just drive the damn car.”

***

“And this unit is complete with its own balcony which overlooks the Thames,” Mariette, Harry’s real-estate agent says to the both of them. “It sets the mood nicely, don’t you think? And it happens to be very popular with our younger couples.” She sends them a not-so-subtle wink.

Y/n feels herself flush, and she ducks into the kitchen and pretends to inspect the marble countertop.

“I’ll keep that in mind,�� Harry says. He doesn’t seem to be paying that much attention, or if he is, he’s really good at hiding his own embarrassment. Y/n wonders if he’s just humoring the over-zealous agent. After all, he was never the type to correct someone over silly little details.

Mariette tells them to walk around, get a feel for the place, before excusing herself to make a phone call. Y/n follows Harry up the stairs where all the bedrooms are. There are three, and the master bedroom has its own ensuite toilet and bath.

“What do you think?” Harry asks her.

She glances at the view from the window. It’s beautiful, gorgeous even. The building itself is in one of the nicer parts of town, where the congested London traffic wouldn’t take away from its overall aura. She can already picture him spending the mornings on the balcony with a cup of tea and a book or passed out on a king-sized mattress in the bedroom after a long day of work.

“It’s nice,” she answers truthfully. “But it doesn’t matter what I think.”

Harry looks at her like she’s spewing nonsense. “I asked for your input, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. But at the end of the day, it’s your home. Not mine. You might not even stay around long enough to enjoy it.” The look on his face when she lets that last part slip out makes her wish she had just shut her mouth. She leaves him in the bedroom and heads into the hall. She needs to get away. Why couldn’t she have just given him a simple answer? Why does she continue to open up old wounds that she knows she’ll never be able to close?

Before she can get far, however, his fingers curl around her shoulder. He swallows thickly behind her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Until now, he hadn’t apologized. She hadn’t expected him to, and now she isn’t sure how to take it. This should vindicate her, but all she wants to do is curl up and close herself off from the world, even for a little while.

She looks down to her feet, and as though on cue, her eyes begin to fill with tears. Her hand quickly lands on her mouth to muffle a sob.

He turns her towards him, holding her by the waist. In a split-second, she’s wrapped in his arms. She tries to pull away, but her body is too unwilling to lose his familiar warmth.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” she whimpers against his shirt.

His chest heaves. “Because if I did, I’d never be able to leave.” His words shake her.

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “But what about me?” she asks. “Harry, you were my best friend, and you just treated me like I meant nothing to you.” It made her feel like nothing. Apparently, she’s an easy person to leave behind. First it was her mother, then the person she trusted most. She couldn’t tell you which had broken her more.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Scoffing, “A bit late for that, no?”

“Then let me make it up to you,” his plea is coated with desperation. Every bit of him shines with sincerity that she wishes she could ignore. His touch burns her through her clothes like blue flames. Body and mind are rekindling, and now that she remembers what it feels like to be close to him, she can’t see a version of herself that doesn’t want him back in her life.

“I don’t know if I believe in second chances,” she says softly. His grip on her loosens substantially, and there’s a sudden fear that he’ll let go. “But,” she continues, “you’ll be my first.”

It’s a bone-crushing, heart-enlarging hug, and it leaves her feeling happier than she’s felt in a long time.

***

They’re not the same two kids who would spend every waking moment together, but this is the closest they’ll ever get in adult life.

Harry visits her on her lunch breaks and lets her bounce marketing strategies off of him whilst they walk the gallery. Just like her dad, he has a well-versed business mind. It feels good to be able to talk to him again. It’s like a part of herself has risen after years of sleep and is finally seeing the light of day. Under the fancy suits and numerous tattoos, he’s still the same guy who can listen to her talk for hours without fail.

She’s even had him over for dinner at her and Jared’s place. At first, she was afraid that things would be tense between the two of them, after all, Jared hadn’t talked much during their dinner nearly a month back. To her delight, however, they seemed to pick up where they left off, and spent majority of the night talking sports and all that ‘man’ talk that she can never be bothered to understand.

If a month ago she had felt empty, she can proudly admit that she’s starting to fill up.

***

When Penny announces that the baby is a girl, Y/n is probably the most excited. She visits the baby boutique she’d been browsing some days ago and buys a rubber duckie onesie with a matching headband, along with four other matching sets.

“You really shouldn’t have to go through all the trouble,” Penny scolds her.

Y/n waves her off. There shouldn’t be any of that nonsense. She likes being able to spoil her best friend’s future child. “I want to. Just humor me, okay? I’m aiming for Auntie of the Year.” She lays all the rest of the outfits on Penny’s sofa.

“It’s true,” Harry adds. “She’s already had the bib made.” Y/n flips him off but is far too delighted by all the pretty patterns to come up with a proper retort. Rather, she tries to sweep Penny into conversation about a real baby shower (and not just the one she’d planned in her head), discussing potential guests and a wish list that she should start setting up on Amazon.

Jared and Penny give each other a look, and the way the former’s jaw tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry but completely goes over Y/n’s head.

***

“Why don’t you put any of your own work on display?” Harry asks her one day.

“Honestly?” she sighs, “I haven’t actually made anything in...well, almost a decade.”

His jaw drops. “I don’t think I heard you right, a decade?”

The same amount of time you’ve been gone, she thinks to herself. Of course, now that they’re back to being friends, she would never say it out loud.

***

Nan had called her up and asked if she and Ava would drive up to Holmes Chapel and help her sort out all the things to donate. They try to visit their grandparents every few months because they are getting to the age where they won’t be around for long. Although, Nan will tell anyone with ears that she’s stronger than she was in her twenties due to her weekly spin classes at the community center. Meanwhile, Gramps is still the same as ever. He still sits in front of the TV and watches highlights of games he’s got recorded on the DV-R, and accidentally knocks over Nan’s petunia’s when he backs the car out of the garage.

Her childhood bedroom is also how she had left it. Sure, her teenage years had called for a bit of renovation, but underneath posters of her favorite actors and boy bands are the youthful stickers Nan had put up when they had first arrived.

She rummages through her closet, throwing old clothes in good condition into her donation basket. There are even some that were never worn, and she debates whether she’d be able to use any of it, but ultimately decides against it.

The top shelf is full of empty shoe boxes and other things she had carelessly thrown up there. Her old sketchbook falls open, face down, at her feet.

She picks it up and is greeted by the same sketch that had won her first prize in the art show all those years ago when she was fifteen. Her fingers graze over the pencil lines, and it’s like being reacquainted with an old friend. She had spent months on this one drawing, and it had turned out to be her greatest piece to date (the actual painting is still being preserved at the school).

“You know, I always thought that boy looked like Anne’s boy,” Nan says nonchalantly. Y/n hadn’t even heard her come in.

“What?” Y/n stares intently at the paper. “You think so?”

Ava practically skips in. “Oh, gossiping, are we?” She sounds just like Nan. Y/n can’t help the roll of her eyes.

“I was just telling your sister about how that painting of hers up at the school looks a lot like Harry.”

“Is it not supposed to?” Ava seems genuinely confused.

“I mean...it wasn’t actually based on anyone in particular,” Y/n says, feeling the need to defend herself. “It was just...something I envisioned in my head.” She turns back to her closet, leaving Nan and Ava to carry on their conversation on her bed.

Reaching her arm up high, she feels around the shelf until she pokes something soft. When she brings it down, she can’t help but grin. Freddo. She had almost forgotten about him. After Harry had left, she had gone on a bit of a rampage, and any reminder of him had fallen victim to the trash or banishment to the top shelf.

Nan must notice her smile because she comes up and cradles her from behind and rests her chin on her shoulder. “It’s funny,” she says, and Y/n looks back at her expectantly. “I also thought that you two would end up together, but I guess I was off by a bit, huh?” She kisses Y/n on the cheek and calls for Ava to follow her downstairs.

Y/n stares at the toy as though it held some sort of secret.

***

She’s lucky she’s home by herself––Jared is off at the pub for his and Sid’s weekly meet-up––because now she has time to unwind and be as antisocial as she wants. Work had been stressful, mostly because the exhibit is set to open next week. And really, all she wants is to be under her favorite blanket with a cup of hot chocolate and just be dead to the world.

Even though she thinks that, however, she can’t help but tap on her phone screen every few minutes. Sure, she likes the time alone, but she also likes being needed. Ava says it’s a control thing, but she really just prefers to be in the know. Lately, Penny’s been spamming her with messages and phone calls about the baby or sometimes it’ll be for a little reassurance. Of course, she’s more than happy to support her. It’s brave of Penny to tackle this alone. The baby’s father is completely out of bounds, so she’s told, and Penny says she’d rather her baby grow up with just a mother than in some dysfunctional setup.

Speaking of dysfunction, she hasn’t been able to properly think straight ever since her visit with Nan. What the elderly woman had told her hadn’t exactly shocked her, per say, but it did have her rethink some of the interactions between her and Harry. It’s ridiculous, really. They’d been best friends since she was eight and he was nine. They know each other’s ins and outs, likes and dislikes, what makes the other laugh and cry. They’re simply comfortable.

Okay. Maybe there had been times where she thought that the possibility of something more was on the table, but that quickly proved to be all in her imagination. She had her boyfriends and he had his girlfriends. She fell in love with his cousin, and he dated her other best friend. Then he left town.

Then he left.

***

Abandoning her original plans for the night, Y/n finds herself at his door.

“Hey,” he greets her, but his warm smile falters when he takes note of her appearance. “What’s with the look? Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, she’s too taken by the image of him and the way her heart feels like it might burst from her chest to comprise a full sentence. He doesn’t push her, though. He fishes into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a shapely object wrapped in purple foil. “I-uh, I don’t eat chocolate that much anymore, but they don’t have these in America, so I’ve been snacking on a few of these a week.” It lands itself in her hand. “Just like when we were kids, right?”

It’s a Freddo. A fucking Freddo. Her fingers curl around it.

“You once asked me if I thought that things should’ve been different,” she says. “What did you mean by that?”

Harry doesn’t answer. She tries again.

“Why did you leave, Harry?"

“It’s been so long, I don’t even remember.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She takes one step closer. He evades her eyes, like he’s afraid they’ll speak on their own. Her stomach tightens because it’s all starting to make sense. His words. That embrace. These feelings that have always existed between them. “You left because of me.”

It’s not a question, but a sure statement. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. She slides a hand up to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. When he finally does, she’s sees it. And her gut says it’s not the first time.

It’s heartache.

She knows because she sees it every time she looks in the mirror. It’s taken her this long to realize it. That hollow feeling that’s been consuming her, it disappeared the day Harry Styles walked back into her life. Once the anger over what he’d done had subsided, she’s felt nothing but joy since.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She wants to scream.

“You made him happy,” is all he says, almost regretfully. “I couldn’t take that away from him.”

“So, you didn’t even consider how I felt? Harry, I would’ve...would’ve–”

“And that’s why I had to leave!” He wipes both hands down his face in frustration. “We would’ve ended up hurting two people we cared too much about.”

“You don’t know that–”

“If I had tried to kiss you that night, would you have let me?” His gaze bores into her.

Yes. The voice within her screams it over and over. He must already know her answer because he just smiles sadly at the floor. This is why he had done it. He knew that if he had stayed any longer, it would have only been a matter of time before they gave into each other.

It makes her sick.

“I figured if I just took myself out the equation, the rest of you would be spared the heartbreak.” He sighs. “And it worked. You and Jared are about to start a life together, Penny’s got her baby. You’re happy.”

She wants to counter him, but she can’t find the strength. “What about you?” she whispers instead.

He tilts his head to the side. “I came back to prove to myself that I could be happy for you.” His jaw slackens, and he doesn’t continue.

She’s toe to toe with him. “And are you?”

The next thing she knows, her back is against the wall, and her fingers are tangled in his hair. His lips feed her, makes her blood come alive like she’s never lived until now. She kisses him with everything she has. Every drop of anger and every ounce of emotion that burns through her veins. His hands keep her body as close to his as possible, yet, they feel so gentle as they caress her curves like she’s made of glass. It feels so right.

And it shouldn’t.

Just as sudden as it had started, she pushes him away. He doesn’t fight her. Without another word, she leaves his apartment.

*** When she makes it home, Jared is about to get ready for bed. She drops her clothes to the floor, and his soon follow. They fall onto the bed, his teeth gnawing down her jaw while his hand slides down to cup her heat. He asks her if she’s ready once his member is nudged against her opening. She nods, and he pushes into her, just as he’s done many times before.

She tries her best to focus on how good this should feel to have him inside of her, but the more he moves, the more she feels like this is all a mistake. It feels all too similar to when she had given him her virginity. It happened the night after Harry had skipped town. She was upset and wanted to feel something aside from the pain he had caused her. Jared had been there, and things had soon escalated. But it didn’t feel right. Her heart wasn’t in it, and so her body couldn’t give itself the relief it had been searching for.

It hasn’t felt like that since, or maybe she had gotten better at hiding it, just as she’s done with everything else. She had hoped that sex with Jared would put her mind and her heart back into perspective, but instead, she feels even more helpless.

One kiss with Harry had meant more to her than any of this. It fills her with shame because shouldn’t want to be with anyone except Jared, especially when all he’s ever done is love her.

She doesn’t realize it’s over until he rolls off her with a content sigh, then stumbles into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him, and it’s then she feels the tears start to fill the rim of her eyes. Her thighs clasp together as her humiliation fully sets in. She turns on her side and covers her naked body with the blanket that had been pushed to the foot of the bed. Jared returns minutes later, mumbling a goodnight. If he has something else to say, he doesn’t. It takes to the count of five for him to drift to sleep.

***

“I need to cancel the engagement,” she says. Ava gives her a circumspect shrug of the shoulders, like she’s trying not to say the wrong thing. Y/n turns to her, hands twiddling the fingers in her lap from stress. “What do you think I should do?”

Ava looks at her, the pity is obvious on her face. “I don’t know, sis.” She rubs her back. “Are you going to tell Jared about you and Harry?”

“I have to.”

***

She doesn’t have the opportunity to talk to Jared until the night of the exhibit opening since he’d been in Spain on a team trip. It’s eating her up, how she hasn’t told him yet, but at least by the end of today she’ll no longer be holding on to something so big. He had promised to come straight to the gallery once he landed back at Heathrow. His flight was set to get in two hours ago, so it’s only a matter of time now.

More and more people are starting to fill the floor. Most are patrons whom she sees frequently at these events, but there are some new faces mixed in the crowd. She’s lucky that Ava and her grandparents are here to support her, especially when she’ll probably need them afterwards.

“Hey, don’t look so nervous,” Nan tells her. “The place looks great. You know, I overheard that guy in the red Chanel that he’s interested in buying.” Bless her, Y/n thinks. Nan’s always had a way of diffusing the tension, even when she isn’t aware of it.

“I’m happy you guys are here,” Y/n says, and she brings her friend in for a hug.

Nan gives her a confused smile. “Of course, we’re here. We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she proudly declares, and she elbows Gramps in the ribs when he doesn’t contribute. “Honestly, try to look a little alive.”

“I put on a tie, didn’t I?” Gramps rolls his eyes, but then he sends Y/n a wink.

“Where’s Penelope this evening?” Nan asks, scanning the room, brows furrowing. Y/n feels a sweat break out. She just hopes that Penny will understand when she finds out about her feelings for her ex-boyfriend. It’s been years, sure, but there has to be some kind of friendship code that prohibits this sort of thing. “And where’s that fiancé of yours? He should be here with you.”

“Probably just got stuck in traffic,” Y/n says, but honestly, she’s reveling the extra time she has to prepare.

Nan hooks arms with Ava and Gramps, and they walk the floor while Y/n greets a few of her guests. Her dad is one of them, no surprise there. He pecks her on the side of the head and lets out a perplexed sound as he gazes at all the art.

“I feel like I should understand this kind of thing by now,” he muses, gesturing to the portrait of naked man made from duct tape and spoons. “Anything after 2003 is lost to me. I just don’t get it.”

“Are you proud of me?” Y/n shocks herself with the question.

Matthew looks stunned himself. “Why would you ask something like that? You know that I am.” He pulls her aside, so they have a little more privacy. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” There’s worry in his eyes.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she appeases, “I just wanted to hear it.” Her dad doesn’t respond but hugs her tight. They stay like that for a moment, she’s always felt safe in his arms, until she feels them loosen around her. She looks up at him, his look somewhere else. When she follows it, her heart skips a beat.

“Harry!” Matthew takes his hand and shakes it. “I haven’t seen you in a full two hours!”

The younger man lets out a slight chuckle. “It’s been unbearable. I just can’t keep away.” He turns to her. “Congratulations.”

A nod is all she can afford.

Matthew looks between the two of them, and their situation feels almost familiar. He coughs into his hand and excuses himself as he chases a waiter down the west wing.

“Can we talk?” Harry asks her.

She purses her lips to the side. There’s so much she wants to say to him, but she’s afraid of what she might do.

Against her better judgement, she leads him into her office. She leaves the door open behind her in the off chance that things intensify. She doesn’t need any more guilt on her plate. (But she wishes he wasn’t wearing such a properly fit suit. It’s far too distracting for the seriousness of the situation.)

Leaning against her desk, arms crossed over her chest, she waits for him to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

“It was both our doing,” she stresses. If you asked her who had kissed who first, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. “We just...got caught up in the moment.” I let my heart dictate my actions.

He looks hurt by her words but doesn’t press her on it. “I should’ve stopped it. I always wondered what it would feel like to kiss you, and when it happened, I...” He shakes his head, and she’s thankful that he’ll never finish that sentence. She’s already heard it in her mind. Hearing out loud would cause both of them too much agony.

“I know,” she rasps. “I can’t stand here and say that I didn’t want it, but–”

“you don’t want to hurt him.” She smiles appreciatively, though, sadly. In another life, maybe they would have a chance. This one doesn’t have a place for them. Even if she ends things with Jared, it doesn’t erase the fact that they’re family. She could never start anything with Harry without him getting hurt. It’s a matter of acceptance now.

This must have been what Harry had been feeling when he had left. As much as it hurts to remember, she thinks she at least understands it better.

“I need air,” she says, not wanting to entertain those thoughts further, “join me?” She grabs her phone from her desk. It’s getting late, and she’s starting to worry about Jared.

They leave her office and start towards the back door that some of her staff use when they want a smoke. She usually avoids it for that reason, but it was getting too stuffy in there. Her lungs will forgive her if she takes this one moment to herself. Her screen unlocks, and just as she’s about to press on her fiancé’s name, Harry pushes the door open and she looks up as the evening breeze brushes her face and then...

“What the hell is this?” She drops her phone to the ground.

Jared and Penny pull away from each other, but the space between them is nearly nonexistent. The latter meets her with scared eyes that soon begin to fill up. One hand covers her mouth as she chokes on a sob or maybe even fear, while the other clasps over her swollen belly. Y/n’s eyes drift down to it. It clicks.

“Y/n...” Jared starts, he’s breathing heavily. “Let me–”

“That’s why you couldn’t tell me his name,” she says shakily. It’s directed at Penelope. “You couldn’t tell me because it was him.” The night Penelope had come over unannounced after her alleged date cancellation at the same time Jared had cancelled his own plans. “I’ll make sure he knows what he’s missing.” And that’s exactly what she had done, and right under her nose. They’d have been sneaking around behind her back for months.

“We d-didn’t mean for it to get this far...” Penny tries to explain, she steps out from behind Jared’s shadow. The usually confident blonde has lost several inches of height. She says something else, but it’s like Y/n’s just drowned out all the noise. Her eyes still haven’t left Penelope’s stomach.

She wants to hate her. She should hate her. But she’s just an innocent victim caught in her parents’ web of lies. Then she grits her teeth at Jared. How far he’s fallen from the pedestal she’d put him on. Now she’s certain that she had inflated his image in her spiraling guilt for having feelings for another man. To think that only minutes ago she was about to plead for his forgiveness for kissing Harry, when all this time he’d been fucking her closest friend.

“Jared,” his name weighs like venom on her tongue, “I want you out of the apartment by tonight.”

She just runs. Down the alleyway, ignoring all the calls of her name behind her. Harry’s voice is by far the loudest. There’s a thud, followed by a scream. However tempted she is to look back, her legs have developed a mind of their own and lead her towards the busy sidewalk. The bright streetlights burn her eyes, but she doesn’t stop.

She keeps going until she finds the first empty cab. Getting in without a second to hesitate, she closes the door and tells the man behind the wheel to just go.

“Where to?” he asks her. Her first instinct is to go home and lock herself in her room, but she realizes that she’ll probably have to confront Jared again, and that’s not going to happen. Her second and third options are still at the gallery, completely oblivious to all the night’s revelations. There’s just one other person on that list, so Y/n gives the driver the address.

***

It takes less than twenty minutes for her to end up in front of a building with bright blue doors and window panels to match. She climbs the steps, one wobbly footstep at a time, but only hesitating once. Her knuckles curl at her sides, until lifting them up to knock against the heavy wood. Light from inside peeks through the curtains.

A woman appears in the open threshold, that faint light from inside creating a halo around her figure. She looks unreal, like something straight out of a storybook. Her ethereal face just as kind as Y/n remembers. It’s the most immaculate she’s ever been.

Y/n feels herself lose the battle with the emotions she had managed to keep on leash from just one look from her.

With a whimper, her mouth struggle with the words. “Hi, Mum.”

***

Grace sets her up in the guest room and supplies her with a cup of tea and biscuits. As she’s setting it down on the bedside table, Y/n can’t help but take note of her appearance. It’s been nearly twenty years since she had last seen her mother, but why is that she’s never looked younger? Her eyes no longer have the eternal vacancy that had highlighted her once slack expression.

She looks happy.

“Thank god I did the shopping earlier this week, huh?” Grace muses, opening up a new pack of biscuits. Each word to leave her lips feels smooth against her ears. “I’ve developed a bit of a sweet tooth in my old age.” Y/n doesn’t know if she appreciates her efforts to make conversation, but it does give her time to think about what exactly she wants to say.

They drink their tea in hushed sips, like they’re afraid that any loud slurping might cause some offence. Y/n stares down into the contents of her cup, annoyed that it’s the perfect color. A part of her had wished that she could find something to fault her with.

“So,” Grace hums, tapping melodically on the porcelain in her hands. “You want to tell me why you’re here?”

Y/n barely lifts her head as her hands strangle the air with frustrated rigidness. “I’ve spent my entire life trying not to become you.” From her decision to follow her dad’s wishes, to keeping appearances for a relationship that she now knows was destined for destruction, she’d made every choice for everyone else.

Grace doesn’t respond, but her mouth parts with a staggered breath.

“I wanted to believe that I was happy. I wanted to do what you never did because I didn’t want to hurt the people I was supposed to love.” All the years she’d never confronted these feelings have ultimately resulted to this. “You broke us,” she says, staring her directly in the eyes. “You ruined every image I had of love.” The anxiousness that had put her through hell had to come from this. The truth is, she couldn’t break it off with Jared because she didn’t want to hurt him in the same way that her mother had hurt her dad. That’s it. She ignored every gut feeling that told her it wasn’t right because of the bitterness she felt towards her mother.

“The choices we make aren’t genetic,” Grace says softly.

“Aren’t they, though?” she shrieks. She bounces to her feet and paces in front of the bed. “Penelope’s mother was the other woman, and now Penelope is pregnant with my fiancé’s baby! You ran away from your family because you couldn’t forget him.”

By that, she means her mother’s new husband, the one she had left them for. It had been during her last year at university that Y/n had discovered the truth. He had been her professor for her art history class. She recognized him from a picture she had once seen in her mother’s jewelry box. She just hadn’t put two and two together until then. “And I...I can’t forget the person I’ve loved since I was eight. What makes us different, Mum?”

Grace holds her chin close to her body. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “But tell me this. Why haven’t you planned your wedding?”

This causes Y/n’s pacing to cease. She stands at her mother’s knees, blinking rapidly. “How would you know anything that goes on with me?”

Her mother stands up as well. They’re about the same height.

“I know it’ll make never make up for what I did but believe me. I’ve never stopped trying to be in your lives...even if it was from afar.” Her hand is shaking as she reaches up to cup Y/n’s cheek so she can wipe away her tears. “I was there when you won all your art shows back in school. I was there when you graduated university.” She’s crying her own tears now. “And I was excited for you when you got engaged three years ago.”

Y/n doesn’t let herself give in. She pulls away. “It was supposed to be a long engagement.”

“Is that what you keep telling yourself?” Grace looks at her pointedly. Y/n’s bottom lip starts to quiver. Her mother grasps her by the shoulders. “Maybe that’s what makes you different from me. You stopped pretending before it was too late, you just hadn’t realized it.”

“Is that supposed to make me a good person?” Y/n challenges.

“No,” Grace answers honestly, but she sighs with a small smile. “But it makes you a better person than me.”

***

She doesn’t recall ever falling asleep, but she can still feel her mother’s hand stroking her hair as she had laid her head on the pillow. The morning sun shines through the curtains of the unfamiliar room and greet her with slithers of light by her feet. Waking up here feels strange, but she’s experienced comfort that she hasn’t felt in so long.

The rug-lined steps make little to no sound as she makes her way downstairs. From the bottom, she can hear two voices talking in hushed tones from the kitchen. One is unmistakably her mothers, while the other is deep and manly. She isn’t sure how to make approach them, suddenly feeling self-conscious for having intruded. But soon enough, her mum catches sight of her and invites her to take the stool beside her. Y/n walks in, passing her mother’s husband, who smiles kindly at her. She had liked him as a professor before she had found about his private life.

“Good morning,” Grace says. “Lawrence’s just been to the bakery.” She pushes a box full of a variety of goodies. “Eat as much as you want.”

Y/n picks up a croissant and gingerly pulls it apart. She avoids how her mother and her husband gage in her every movement.

“Did you sleep well?” It’s Lawrence who asks her. She nods. Lawrence and her mother share a look, and through their eyes they seem to converse. It reminds her a lot of how she and Harry had always been able to tell what the other was thinking without having to verbalize. Lawrence finishes up his cup of coffee, then circles around the island and kisses his wife on the cheek. “I’m just going to pop to the store,” he says. She catches the back of his head before he disappears.

“I thought you said you had just done the shopping?” Y/n asks her mother. The older woman shrugs, continuing to pick at her breakfast. Oh. She sees that there’s apparently more to talk about. Y/n does in fact have a few more questions she wants to ask, if anything more than to talk to someone who knows what she’s going through. She takes a deep breath. “Are you happy?” The words feel awkward as they leave her mouth. Grace looks at her, questioningly. She nods towards the door. “With him?”

“Yes.”

Y/n’s heart breaks for her father.

“He’s my best friend,” Grace says dreamily. “I’ve known him all my life. Loved him about the same.” Y/n feels goosebumps startle her skin.

“So,” Y/n treads cautiously, “was he worth it?”

“There are things that I would have done differently when it came to you and your sister, given the chance,” her mother sighs, but when she looks at her with those eyes that are so full of light and what she guesses must only be love, Y/n gets it. “But otherwise I’d choose him all over again.”

***

She knocks impulsively on his front door, not caring if his new neighbors think she’s out of her mind insane. Her limbs are tight with anticipation, especially when she hears the scuffle of feet against well-polished hardwood. Harry stands in the open doorway dressed in a white t-shirt and black joggers, and an adorably confused look floating in his sleepy eyes. But when he registers her before him, it’s like he’d been hit by lightning and suddenly jolted awake.

“Has anything changed?” she asks, almost pleadingly. He just stares at her, frustrating her already exhausted nerves. She hadn’t come all this way after a rollercoaster of a night to not get an answer. “Am I...Am I still all that’s in...” And rests her hand where his heart is.

Her own heart leaps in her chest when his dimples emerge from his cheeks. He lays his own hand over hers, stepping towards her but also pulling her incredibly close. “It’s always been you.”

And no words have ever made her cry out of shear joy. She laughs, or maybe it’s more of a wet giggle, before throwing her arms around his neck and bringing him in for a scorching kiss. Unlike their first kiss, this one is filled solely with everything they hadn’t allowed themselves to feel. He nips on her bottom lip, and her mouth parts and welcomes his tongue to explore every unchartered inch. He grasps her both her thighs and carries her to his bedroom.

She can’t believe she’s gone this long without knowing his touch. Every movement of against her skin, and every exploration of forbidden pleasure makes her stomach coil and beg for more. He lays her down on his bed, his body hovering over hers like he’s afraid she might slip away.

He leans in a little lower, and she gasps when she feels him hard against her hip. “We don’t have to do anything,” he gulps, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’ve been through a lot, and I just want you to know that–” but he doesn’t get to finish because she shuts him up with the fire in her eyes. She loves him for everything he is, even when he’s being selfless to a fault.

“We’ve waited too long for this,” she breathes against his lips. “Let’s choose us.”

A low throaty moan surges from of her as he grinds himself against her, sending currents of electrifying energy down to her aching entrance. Her mind becomes cloudier with his every caress. His hot breath against her longing flesh only intensifies her need.

“Please,” she begs, fingers working on the hem of his shirt. “I want you. God, please I want to feel you.”

He chuckles softly as she whines, pecking her again. “Patience, love,” he teases. His lips glide down to her ear, his breath sending shivers down her inflamed body. “Show me where you want me.”

Taking reign of his hand and guiding down the front of her front, she smirks at him. His pants become unbelievably tight as she lets him linger over her chest, her head falling back when the warmth of his hand flicks over her pebbled nipple. “You want me between your pretty little tits? Is that what my girl wants?” His girl. Nothing in this moment could sound so perfect than the words to have just left his lips. It’s enough for her to want to bring him in for another impassioned kiss, but she restrains, shaking her head mischievously as he squeezes gently on her breast. She leads him further down, his palm sliding down her abdomen.

“Here.” She slots her fingers through the spaces between his and their tips graze the base of her dress, toying with the flimsy material until finally slipping beneath. He groans as his skin comes into contact with her pussy emanating all that delicious heat.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” She rubs against him just enough for him to feel her center through her panties, and he swears to her that he might come then and there. Wasting no time, she pulls his shirt over her head, only breaking their kiss to appreciate all the tattoos on his sculpted chest. When she’d seen them before, it had only been for a quick few seconds, and she’d been far too flustered to take anything more than a peek. But now she can’t help herself, and she lets her fingers dance across the ink, the point of her nails tracing over the edge of every design. She spends the most time on the moth, or maybe it’s a butterfly, she couldn’t say.

All she knows is that something about it makes her feel at peace, like she’ll always be safe as long as he's there beside her. She tears her eyes away from his chest to find him looking at her as though she were everything that’s right with the world. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, and she just beams, eyes looking back at him with such sincerity.

He kisses the side of her mouth before descending along her body He takes his time, his lips pressing over every possible inch of her, leaving no surface neglected. Where his hands had been prior, he takes an erect mound in his mouth, tongue swirling around in through its covering. Each touch leaves her breathless, her back arching in intense anticipation the further down he goes. When his nose nudges at the bottom of her skirt, she lets out another frustrated whine, and he chuckles softly at how her abdomen sucks in as the stubble on his chin prickles goosebumps across her skin.

“Please, just. . .” and the final remains of her inhibitions drain from the tips of her fingers and toes. “I want your cock inside me.”

“Christ, you’ve got a filthy mouth.” And he tears her dress from her body and pulls her panties down her silky legs, leaving her completely bare before his eyes. From a pale green, the color of his irises darkens with a fierce and pounding desire. It sends vibrations down to her pussy and all she wants is for him to bury his face in her dripping arousal. She bites harshly on her lip once he licks between her slick folds. “So sweet,” he mutters, his lips slipping through the barriers to find her sensitive little nub. “I could just stay here forever.”

“Harry. . .” she gasps, fisting the sheets as her hips lift off the mattress. “It feels so good.” Her legs hang over his shoulders as he encourages her to ride his face until she’s begging to release all over his tongue. “Oh god, don’t stop.”

One of his long fingers that had been drawing small little circles on the inner part of her thigh smooths over her damp skin until it forges its way into her glistening heat. The other hand moves down his own figure, undoing the button of his jeans and sliding past the waistband of his boxers.

As the knot in her stomach twists with tremendous force, it pushes her closer and closer to the edge. He inserts another finger, the two digits piston in and out of her, working harmoniously with his skilled mouth. She screams out, her back arching to an almost impossible degree. It all becomes too much for her, bursts of light flashing behind her eyelids.

“I’m gonna come,” she moans, cheek pressed deep into the pillow, eyes shut tightly to welcome the stars as she lets go with cacophonous convulsions.

“That’s my good girl, come all over my tongue. That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He climbs back up her body, a content smile awaiting him when their faces become level with each other. Another exchange of ardent kisses, and she feels herself tingle at the taste of her on his lips. Even after her orgasm, she already craves for another, but this time she wants nothing more but to feel him stuffed inside of her. She wraps a leg around his hip, the edge of her foot pressed against the side of his ass as she presses her core into his bulge.

“I need to be inside of you.” He leaps off the bed to push off the last pieces of constrictive clothing. His cock springs free, flushed red at the tip and just desperate for her amorous touch.

And he’s big, she had always had an inkling, but to see it in the flesh is a whole new sensation quivering between her thighs. “It’s so big,” her thoughts become vocalized.

With his knees back onto the bed, she grabs his shoulders and pulls him down lower, his elbows planking on either side of her. “Feel how hard I am for you?” He hisses as her warm hand wraps around him, her thumb swiping along a dribble of precum. She lathers him in his own arousal. “Think you can handle my cock?”

She’s completely in awe, and her mind runs untamed with fantasies of how it would feel hitting that special spot deep in her cunt, every rigid vein carving its impression in her walls. “You know I can,” she dares him.

“Fuck.” He kisses her deeply, his hand taking ahold of his cock and glazing it with the remnants of her last climax and gliding just between her wet folds. “One last time–” he swallows hard as he pulls away from his lips, “–are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I...”

Their eyes meet, a wordless understanding worth more than any spoken language as she cups his cheeks.

The entire length of him slides into her tight hole until he bottoms out, his balls pressing against her taut ass. She feels undeniably full, never having experienced such exhilaration in her life as Harry’s bare cock stretches her out completely.

“Just slid right in,” he grunts, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. He bites down and sucks greedily on the spot until he’s made his mark. She gasps in mild pain, but it feels too good to know that she can finally be his. He pulls all the way out, before slamming back in with ease, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as her walls flutter around him. “It feels like you were made for me” She feels marvelously tight, squeezing him for all he’s worth. All she can do is nod, her voice caught in her throat as his thrusts become harder and faster. “It’s all mine now, your pussy, your lips. You’re all mine.”

“I’m yours, all yours, Harry.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “God, your big cock feels so good in my tight pussy.” Nails dig into his back as they run down and carve crescents into his flexed and sweaty muscles.

They move flawlessly in sync as she rises up to greet his every thrust with just as much excitement and fervor. Both their bodies are on fire, a pressure building up at their very core and threatening to unravel at any moment. His balls tighten, and he knows he won’t last for much longer. He looks down between them, his cock completely soaked with her with the most sinful sounds resonating whenever he pushes in and out of her delightful heat. “I love you,” he breathes into her ear, his fingers indenting into the plush of her hips. He loses any sense of rhythm he might have started out with, his movements becoming more and more urgent as he chases after his high.

“I love you.” Her second orgasm fast approaches, she feels it thrill every one of her nerves as though currents of electricity were running through her veins. She’s so close, and her hand slips between their sweaty chests to rub desperately on her clit. Her head is spinning with an aspiration to reach the brink of ecstasy.

“Come all over my cock,” he pleads as he pushes into her with incredible force. “Want to feel you come around me.”

And that’s it for her. A wave of pleasure crashes over her and she cries out with a high-pitched moan. Her legs hugging him so tightly that he barely manages to move. She rides it out, rolling her hips to feel him continuously poke that special spot. Soon enough, her mind is on a cloud, the rest of her body soaking up the bliss of the moment.

His movements only become more erratic, and the breath leaves her body once he releases inside of her. Hot white ribbons shoot out and paint her walls with the image of a sensational love. It warms her center, her lips turning up in a lazy smile as he remains within her even after the final drop has left his tip. Once they’re heaving chests calm to a natural pace, he collapses on top of her, arms willing their way between her and the mattress to gather her into a tender embrace. She scratches the back of his head and sighs contently.

“To think we could’ve been doing that for,” and she counts the years on each one of her fingers.

Harry chuckles in between her breasts, then reaches up and plants a quick but sweet kiss to her lips. “How long are you going to be holding onto that one?” She pretends to think, her mouth quirking to the side as her brows furrow in contemplation. “Until we make up for all that wasted time.”

***

“I got you something.” She looks up at him, her body still wrapped in his arms as they lay naked in his bed. Memories of what feels like another life flip through her head.

“Is this what déjà vu feels like?”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want it or not?”

Smiling, she kisses enthusiastically and nods her head. He gets up, and she has to stop herself from frowning when they lose all contact. She sinks into the sheets and waits impatiently for him to come back. Listening to him rummage through his closet, then to the growling of her tummy–and she makes a quick mental note to ask him to order something for them in a while––she tries to relive every detail from the last few hours in her head. She didn’t know that sex was supposed to feel so good.

“You told me that you hadn’t drawn in almost ten years,” he states, making his way back to the bed, but this time, with a bag clutched in his hands. He places it in her lap, then slips between her and the headboard, arms going back to their initial position. “Maybe it’s time you started back up.”

Y/n opens the enclosed wrappings. Inside the bag is a new sketchbook and a carton of 9H pencils. She carefully grazes her fingers above them. There’s a feeling in her chest, like she’s just been reunited with an old friend.

“But what would I even draw?” She’d lost all sight of that part of her life, and it seems unlikely that those creative juices will just come trickling back to her now.

Harry kisses the side of her head, and she leans into him easily.

“Whatever inspires you.”

It’s just that easy. She closes her eyes and reflects on what has always made her feel any bit positive. Ava and her bluntness; her dad and his sense of duty to his family; Nan and Gramps and their playful bickering; Nan and her proclivity for gossip; Gramps and his hatred for ties. All of them had been a comfort to her, even when she hadn’t realized it. They were part of what had kept her afloat.

Feeling Harry’s heartbeat press up against her back, she knows that she’ll never have to worry about drowning. She opens her sketchbook to its first clean page and lets herself be happy.

***

“Thanks for meeting us here,” Jared says, offering her a modest grin. “I would’ve understood if you didn’t want to.” Penny nods beside him. Jared had texted her and asked if she would meet them for lunch, so that they could talk. At first, Y/n didn’t think that necessary. What was the point when it was all out in the open now? But with some convincing from Harry, she realized that she had to confront this.

“There’s no moving on if we don’t talk about it.” Y/n takes the seat across from Penny. She looks at the girl she’d consider a sister, studying her rounded and healthier features. Pregnancy looks good on her. “You look good.”

Penny smiles thankfully. “So do you.”

They talk about everything, even the stuff that feels like it should hurt. But it doesn’t. Clarity exists where it hadn’t before. She tells them that about Harry, and apparently it isn’t much of a shock to anyone, which shocks her. Jared then admits to having had all these doubts about their relationship but had stuck through it because of his own insecurities. That had had hit close to home for Y/n. It’s somewhat of a relief that she hadn’t been the only one who felt that what they had was temperamental.

“You were there for me when I was at my worst, and for that, I’ll always love you,” Jared sighs, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “But...”

“That’s all we were meant to be.”

He nods sadly, pulling back. His other arm is around Penny’s chair, and Y/n can see his fingers playing with the ends of her ponytail.

Penny must notice this, and she quickly shrugs him away. “Sorry,” she mutters.

Y/n shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she waves it off. “This was good. At least now we can all carry on with our lives.” She gets out of her chair. “Good luck,” she says to the both of them. Then she looks directly at Penny. “I know you’re worried about making all the same mistakes as your mum, but...” she smiles, “someone said to me that mistakes aren’t genetic. I know you. And I know how much you love your baby. Just promise me you’ll be there for her.”

With that she turns towards the exit. Before she can get far, however, she feels a hand grab her own. She looks back, and it’s Penny. Her eyes are teary, and her chest lifts erratically. “Do you think that...” she swallows, “...that you’ll ever forgive me?”

“Do I still get to be called auntie?”

Penny lets out a stifled giggle. “Yes.”

Y/n touches her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Then, one day.”

She walks out of there feeling completely at peace with herself.

***

Two Years Later

The newest exhibit proves to be a hit. It’s smaller than its predecessors, this time only containing the work from a single artist.

She and Harry walk hand-in-hand, greeting all of guests and just enjoying each other’s company. Gramps isn’t moping as much as he usually does, and she thinks it’s because Nan’s bought him a clip-on tie that doesn’t strangle him around the neck. Ava and Nan are gossiping with some potential investors, while her dad tries to apologize on their behalf.

On the other side, her mum and Lawrence discuss color theory in relation to one of the spotlight pieces. She catches a glimpse of the civility between her parents when they catch each other’s eyes from across the room.

“I think it’s the gallery’s best showcase yet,” Harry tells her and kisses her on the lips. “Really, I don’t see how anything might top this.”

Y/n laughs. “You’re just trying to get laid.”

Harry wags his eyebrows. “Is it working?” She doesn’t need to give him an answer with words, so instead, she pulls him by the lapels of his jacket and their lips meet in another sweet kiss.

They stop in front of the piece in the very back, the one that’s drawn in the most viewers. They squeeze through the polluted crowd until they’re close enough to the front. He wraps his arms around her, and they both admire its beauty.

Two kids laid out on the grass; eyes closed with content smiles on their faces. The sky above them, a product of their combined imaginations as well as the excitement of hopes and dreams.

Below the canvas is a placcard with the painting’s information.

Y/n Styles, Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies.

***

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

#harry styles #harry style imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles au #one direction #writing

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years

Text

A Secret Life:

**Gif credits go to the amazing @nofckingfighting your gifs give me life ok. They’re *chef’s kiss.**

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: None really, just some Fluff and some Swearing I think.

Word Count: 3,324

Characters: Johnny Dogs x Female!Reader

Requested by: @atjafshelby, you can find it here. This was the first time I’ve written anything mainly for him so I hope this is good lol. I love getting the opportunity to write other characters. :)

Summary: After a spat about potatoes and a sudden departure from Thomas’ dinner meeting, Johnny Dogs rushes home to be with his wife Y/N and their family, knowing he’d have to tell the blinders about his secret life with them eventually.

The weather was gloomy as the peaky men prepared for one of Tommy’s meetings in the middle of Charlie’s yard. The cans full of logs and kindling burning brightly through the smog of Small Heath as the smoke filled the air. The smell of smoked meat and other foods slowly making their way onto the makeshift table.

In the distance though, was a loud voice mumbling on hurriedly as he stomped along the dirt and soot covered road leading to the feast.

“Right, put the steel rods up the gooses arse there. Go on.” Johnny Dogs said to one of the younger lads who were understandably confused. His eyes watching as they did so, itching to do it himself since no one ever prepared goose the right way. This wasn’t his only criticism though, as he made his way to the table he noticed the lack of starch amongst the men.

“This isn’t a proper dinner. If you’re going to have the Gold’s here ya gotta have potatoes!” Johnny Dogs said loudly as the Shelby’s tired uncle followed the Irish traveler around the yard.

Charlie looked at the man dumbfounded, thinking it was as great a feast as any.

“I want him to see that we live proper, that we eat proper, in the proper way!” He exclaimed.

“No...no you know what?” He added, pointing at Charlie with an anger-filled expression.

“What?” Charlie asked, lighting a cigarette as his infamous nephews came strolling in.

“I’ll get the potatoes me-self!” He exclaimed, clearly frustrated as he stomped through the yard to the old market nearby. His mind buzzing with the thought of his wife and children back at camp. He loved being here with the men he considered allies, but his heart was there with Y/N, always, especially now that she’d been alone with their newest edition to the family.

“What’s he on about aye? It’s just a dinner to discuss the vendetta. Is he scared of the Gold’s?” Tommy said, a cigarette lingering on his lips.

“No he just thinks they’re bloody heathens.” Charlie said as Tommy smirked, walking back to meet Aberama Gold and his son Bonnie.

As Johnny got back, he hastily threw the potato’s in one of the boiling pots near the men. The steam rolling off them as he mashed them up and brought them to the table.

“Bit late there Johnny.” Arthur said, grabbing a huge spoonful of them.

“Not me fault someone can’t prepare a proper meal.” He said, his eyes darting to his pocket watch as Aberama agreed, thanking him for making them as they continued their tense conversation.

“Is there something wrong?” Tommy asked Johnny, causing him to swallow hard as he tried to not tell them about you. It ached him not to, but quite frankly he was nervous to do so. Knowing they’d have something to say when they learned of his relationship status and such.

“Almost forgot, I had some things to take care of at camp. I’ll be back in the mornin’ boys. Don’t get blood all over the fucking food alright?” He said, Tommy waving him off with a suspicious look on his face. He never had men leave abruptly, but if anything he thought maybe he had a whore waiting for him or another feud to handle.

But little did the blinders know what actually awaited him.

“Aye! Dads going to be home soon-no-don’t you dare hit your brother!” Y/N said aloud to her two rambunctious children Alice and Samuel, who were running around the field with the other little ones of the group that were set up nearby. Your youngest, Sarah, nestled on your hip and baby-babbling to herself.

“You’re gonna be full of words just like your father aren’t ya love?” You said to her quietly, going over to your son and daughter who were rough-housing as usual.

“Playtime’s over loves, we have to get ready for dinner.” You said, the children immediately stopping and saying goodbye to the other kids as you waved goodbye to their parents.

As you led your children back to the vardo, you quickly put your daughter down in her small crib near the cramped bed in the wooden structure.

Your tired reflection caught you off guard as you looked in the mirror. Your eyes not as bright and hair not as perfectly placed as before you’d had three children.

You were always grateful to be blessed with good looks that were surely from your mother, but you soon garnered unwanted attention as you’d grown up, the men throwing themselves at you left and right, until you’d seen Johnny one day at a camp in Ireland of course. He was bantering with his friends, fist fighting and such near one of your family’s stops, his smile catching your eye as he laid his own upon you. The poor man got punched because of you after all, making him go off his game with your beauty. But to this day he said he didn’t regret it, telling you in that moment his world stopped. That he’d felt like the luckiest man in the world to have someone as sweet and as beautiful as you by his side all these years.

And so now here you were, waiting for your traveler and infamously rowdy blinder husband to come home. The sun setting in a plethora of colors over the field as the other travelers sat around their respective bonfires.

“When’s dad coming? He’s usually back.” Your son asked, his eyes the color of yours but the shape of Johnny’s, and your daughters small smile like his as well.

“Yeah mum where’s he off to? I wanted him to tell us a bedtime story.” She said, pouting slightly as she watched you preparing dinner.

“Give him time angels. He’s a busy man.” You said, wondering where he was, knowing he’d most likely gotten held up by the fucking Shelby’s once again.

He’s never told them about you and it stung a bit, but you realized early on that he only did it to keep you and the family safe, knowing that nothing good ever came from uttering the Shelby name.

As you portioned the food out for the children, your youngest cried for her food as well as you sighed and went in to nurse her. Humming a soft song to her as she gradually fell asleep in your arms.

As the kids emptied their bowls, stomachs full and content smiles on their faces, you ushered them to their beds, your heart racing slightly as you thought about where your husband could be.

“Don’t worry loves, dad will be home soon alright? I’m going to be just outside.” You said, fixing yourself your portion of the food as you stoked the fire a bit more, the embers disappearing into the night air as you wrapped the warm knit blanket around you.

You’d gotten accustomed to spending the majority of your nights alone with the children, eating amongst the stars and telling stories, but one thing always remained constant, and that was the need for their dad to be home. He made everyone light up when he’d come around. His laugh bringing a smile to your face instantly as he entertained the kids on his off days while you rested with the baby. But now like many nights, they missed him. They missed how he’d make you all feel safe, knowing he had you all out in the open like this. But he knew the company he kept, and he trusted them with his life that they’d take care of you all if need be.

Alas, as you sat there lost in thought, you heard the cries of your daughter once again as you went into the vardo, gently cradling her to you as you carried her outside into the cool night air, the sound of the crackling fire and water rushing nearby helping her fall asleep once again as you bounced her around lightly.

“It’s okay sweetheart. He’ll be home soon.” You reassured her. Knowing he’d never ever leave you sleeping alone, unless it was something serious.

---

“Johnny, before you go, we’ll be stopping by tomorrow. We need to make sure you all are ready.” Thomas said as Johnny walked away from the table.

“Alright, I’ll see ya there then lads. Goodnight.” He said, tipping his hat and walking off towards the horse he’d ridden in on. Quickly riding towards one of the flower fields nearby to pick some for you. He knew they wouldn’t make up for him being late, but he knew they’d at least bring a smile to the face he loved so much.

---

You sat wide-awake with your sleeping daughter against your chest, your nightgown covered by the thick blanket you’d draped over you and the baby. Her soft coos and little snores bringing a smile to your face as you kissed the top of her head. Your stomach still hurting with some efforts as you shifted in your seat. She’d only been about 4 months old, so both you and her were adjusting to the whole life thing with each other.

As you sat there naming the constellations to yourself as you gazed at the stars, you heard the familiar horse hooves pounding on the ground near the vardo. Johnny’s giddy whistle making your daughter rustle around in your arms as she knew he was home.

“Shhh, she’s sleeping.” You said quietly as he walked over ever-so carefully to kiss you, his lips soft against yours as he lingered on them for a moment, taking you in.

“I wanted to get here earlier, with the baby and everything but uh...Tommy got in the way again.” He said, grabbing the flowers he’d picked earlier.

“Are these for me?” You asked, grasping them with your free hand.

“Mhmm. Picked them me-self. Thought you’d like some after a hard days work caring for the kids. And uh, since I’ve been gone so long ya know?” He said, nervously rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“I love you Johnny Dogs. You romantic devil.” You said with a smirk as you kissed him once more.

“Now tell me love, what’s got you on your toes?” You asked, knowing his body language more than your own at this point.

“They’re coming here, to make sure everything’s ready for the big mission.” He said.

“Christ....do we need to stay in? It’ll be hard with this one crying.” You said, looking down at the sleeping bundle in your arms.

“No...I...I want you to meet them. They’re coming tomorrow mornin’.” He said.

“I see....well I’ll make sure to get up and make sure the kids meet them too. Couldn’t hurt right?” She asked.

“It could soften the blow I suppose.” He said, grabbing the last of the food that was still warm over the fire.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked.

“They’ll take one look at you and drool. You don’t think I see it every time we go outside the camp? You’re bloody gorgeous and you’ve gone and married a fool like me?” He said half-jokingly. His self-deprecating humor hurting your heart.

“They can say what they want, but you’ll always be the man for me Johnny. I wouldn’t have you any other way. You were the first man I’ve ever loved.” You said, remembering how despite your looks, you’d never had the luck of relationships on your side, thinking all hope was lost until that day so long ago. And god were you grateful for him, even if he did talk your ear off on more than one occasion, you still loved the man to death.

“Now go tell your children a bedtime story, please love?” You asked, looking at him with puppy dog eyes that made his heart swoon. He could never say no to you.

---

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of the kids playing out by the river, the wind rustling around the vardo as you heard Johnny helping out with the baby outside.

“I’m sorry love, I was going to get up and help ya but I guess I overslept.” You said, wrapping your robe around yourself that complimented your eyes and physique exquisitely.

“You needed the beauty sleep love. Besides, you’ve done enough for me these past weeks, thought I’d do something for ya.” He said, cradling the baby in his arms as you sat near him next to the barely lit fire, the coals still hot from the night before.

Johnny took your hand in his lightly, the ring on your finger sparkling in the sunlight as you both watched your kids playing together near the river.

In the distance though, you could hear the sound of a car pulling up, your nerves getting to you as you knew it was Thomas Shelby and his brothers.

“Here we go.” You mumbled, calling your children over as the men got out of the car, the kids nearly running into them as their little legs carried them swiftly over the grass. They quietly stood behind you as Johnny handed you your baby girl, her bright eyes looking up at you as the sun hit your face flatteringly.

“Hello boys! G’morning to ya! How’s about we get this meeting done shall we?” He asked, putting his cap on.

“Who’s the lovely lady over there aye?” John asked, eyeing her with hungry eyes.

“That’s me wife. Her names Y/N.” He said, looking John in the eyes as he crossed his arms.

“Oh and who are the children with her? They can’t be yours can they? Wow Johnny boy! Didn’t know you had it in ya. How’d you snag a gem of a girl like that aye? Use any of yer charms?” Arthur said jokingly.

“They’re mine yes, and don’t worry, I did nothing of the sort. She came to me actually.” He said with a proud smug smile on his face, knowing he married one of the prettiest women near Small Heath and the bastards couldn’t do anything about it.

“Well if you have anymore questions how’s about you lot meet them then?” Johnny asked over the awkward silence, Thomas still eyeing him a bit suspiciously.

“You boys go meet them, me and Johnny have something to discuss.” Tommy said shortly.

“Oh...al-alright. Here ya go lads.” He said, leading them over to Y/N and her children, who backed behind their beautiful mother shyly.

“Hello gentlemen, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet ya.” You said, smiling brightly as their stares lingered over you. It was something you were used to, but still made you slightly uncomfortable, so you remained focused on your kids.

“You can have a seat if you’d like, we don’t mind do we loves?” You asked, patting your son on the head as he smiled.

“No it’s ok momma. I’m gonna go play.” Your daughter said, running off towards the other little kids nearby. Your son sat by you though, eyeing the men curiously.

“So these are Johnny’s kids aye? What’s your name little man?” Arthur asked, putting on his nicest smile.

“Samuel. Who are you? Why do ya have big hats on like me dad?” He asked.

The men both looked at each other and smiled.

“We’re in a...group that your fathers in. It’s for people that are nice and strong.” He said.

“Oh...” Samuel said, fiddling with his fingers as he leaned his head against your arm.

“How’d you and Johnny meet aye? Old bugger like him sure snagged a beauty for a wife.” John said.

“Oh uhm...we met by chance really. I saw him scrapping with some people by the roadside when my family were going through and I stopped to watch. He says he got caught off guard by me. He got hit right after eyeing me up.” You said with a small laugh. John and Arthur chuckled as they looked over at Johnny and Tom having a rather tense conversation.

“While our brother’s interrogating the poor man, who’s this little one and her big sister?” Arthur asked.

“This is Sarah. She’s 4 months, almost 5. Talkative little bugger just like her dad. Always babbling about somethin’ aye? And that’s Alice. She hates sitting down, always wanting to be on the go. Guess it’s in the blood.” You said, also feeling antsy as you sat there with half of your little family.

“That it is.” Arthur said, looking around the camp as Johnny’s voice rose in the distance.

“When were you going to tell me Johnny?” Thomas asked, his cigarette dangling from his lips.

“About what mate? Bout me cookin’ and leaving yesterday or bout me family?” He asked.

“About your family, Johnny. You’re like family to us you know. How could you not tell us?” He asked loudly.

“You should know! The bloody line of work we’re in! God knows I’m not bringing them into that ‘ere.” He said a bit louder than Thomas expected, causing the others to look over.

“But why hide something like this Johnny? Not because of the way of our work but why hide it until now aye?” He asked.

Johnny thought for a moment, leaning against the tree near the river.

“Because Tom. I knew you’d all take one look at her and wonder why she’s wit’ a man like me. Ya know I’m not the nicest looking man ‘ere. Somehow how Tom...somehow she loves me and I wanted ya to see why I had to leave yesterday. It’s not just me I’m thinkin’ bout anymore.” He said.

“That why you’ve been yelling at work? Being short with everyone?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah Tom, yeah. Just...please don’t drag them into this.” He said, looking over at his wife who was managing pretty well despite John practically drooling.

“Well now that that’s cleared up how about you introduce me to them aye?” Thomas said, patting him on the shoulder and walking past him.

“I fucking guess. C’mon.” He said walking quickly ahead of his friend as Y/N smiled upon their arrival. His heart skipping a beat at the sight of it.

“Y/N, love, I want ya to meet-“ He said before you cut him off. Eyeing the man who’d put your family in risky circumstances long ago.

“Thomas Shelby. Yeah...I know. Nice to see you in person.” You said, shaking his hand roughly and with a more colder glance than you’d had given his other brothers. You knew Thomas orchestrated everything within the blinders, so he was often the one blamed when things went south, and you had no problem casting the blame on him when Johnny would come home half conscious and bleeding, or limping with a bullet wound or two.

“Pleasure’s all mine Y/N. How’s the family?” He asked, sitting beside Johnny around the bonfire that was slowly burning out.

“Good now that their father is back. This little one is Sarah, the wild one over there is Alice, and our boy here is Samuel.” You said, pointing with your free hand to your small crew of children.

“Aye, so he tells me you met by chance. How in the hell did this man meet a woman like you?” He asked.

You looked down slightly at your daughter who was surprisingly sleeping soundly, her small mass of hair on her head coming in as dark as her fathers.

“I told your brothers already but, uh we met when I was traveling with me family. Saw him scrapping with some other men from nearby, I guess ya locked eyes long enough with me that they knocked you out aye love?” You said lightly punching Johnny’s shoulder.

“Aye they did. Couldn’t stop bloody lookin’ at ya. I mean seriously boys. Isn’t she a beauty? I’m a lucky man. A lucky lucky man.” He said, lighting a cigar as you smiled and put your free hand on his. It was rough from years of work, but as warm as the hugs he gave. He was home to you, no matter where you all went, he was the one constant thing you longed for, knowing in your heart he was yours forever.

Johnny Dogs Tag List:

@flysafepapi, @gaytommyshelby, @ta-ka-shi-ma

If you’d like to be added/removed, just send me an ask/message. :)

#atjafshelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #johnny dogs #johnny dogs x reader #johnny dogs x female!reader #johnny dogs x y/n #johnny dogs imagines #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby

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pathofcomet · 4 years

Text

my honey, my daisy, my only

fandom: ikemen vampire

pairing: isaac/MC

summary: “Do not fall in love with anyone here,” Sebastian threatens, wiping a glass and carefully placing it to the side, to be moved to the cupboards a little bit down the hall.Written for Isaac week, day 4. Prompt: AU. Hanahaki AU. (AO3)

“Do not fall in love with anyone here,” Sebastian threatens, wiping a glass and carefully placing it to the side, to be moved to the cupboards a little bit down the hall.

She places her trembling hands in her lap: scared and her heart still throbbing in her chest. This place and this time suddenly don’t really feel like a dream anymore, the fear too real. Love is a concept that doesn’t fit in this image that she’s building of the inhabitants of Saint-Germain’s mansion, so his warning is hollow, empty.

“Why?” she still asks, dumbly.

Sebastian stops – and then slowly, he undoes his necktie and the first two buttons at the top of his shirt. With the downwards pull, she can see the small scar sitting at the base of his throat, nothing but a faint line, whiter than the rest of his skin. His finger is just delicately following the path of where there has once been a cut.

“You know what this is, right?”

She nods. It’s not proper to ask more about it, because what’s there left to be said, when you have given up all memories of a loved one for the chance to keep on living? When the flowers start growing in your chest alongside your love, there are only two choices, really: you’re either having your feelings reciprocated, or have them disappear forever, alongside your memories of the person you fell for. Sebastian chuckles, a dry little thing.

“This does not exist here yet.”

And now the warning sinks in, with its whole finality and strength. If you love, and you are not loved back – here the only choice left is to eventually choke on all those feelings. She can feel her throat constricting in painful memory, the ghost of something she will never be able to recall. She nods again, and Sebastian, pleased that he got to her, resumes his work.

***

Love is pain. Love on its own is pure death – it goes as simple as that. But love kills slowly and beautifully, for it is not entirely unkind.

For vampires, the suffering is doubled. Because while sex is the food, love is the appetite.

And Isaac is stuck in the middle, thirst clawing at him, knowing the pain long before the love arrives.

***

Is there a reason for what humans do? Isaac doesn’t feel like he became a vampire a long time ago, but the separation still comes to him naturally. Even more so ever since she joined this place and turned his world upside down.

Isaac opens his door to her small figure in the frame and no matter how much he scrambles for a reason why she’s here, he can find none. By all laws of logic, she should be afraid and hateful. Instead, she smiles and doesn’t pour all the contents of the tray in his lap, which is more than he’d expected.

And Isaac finds himself smile back. Mistake no. 1.

***

Saint-Germain drinks his coffee, watching the exchange between Isaac and his newest visitor, and he calculates inside his mind several possibilities and probabilities. In time travel, just as in love, there are no real certainties, not even for the best out there. But there are more or less twenty days left for their young visitors – certainly not enough to develop any severe forms of the sickness, even if she is to catch it.

Saint-Germain thinks her better than that. But twenty days are more than enough to have her fall in love with a city instead. Cities don’t break hearts. So he clears his throat, passing his cup over to Sebastian, and creates an excuse.

Mistake no. 2 – Isaac didn’t do anything directly about this one, but he still considers himself guilty for it.

***

“Smiling suits you,” Isaac says, and her cheeks bloom red, like flowers.

He is smiling as well, and the two of them are on the side of the road, looking at each other, suddenly transfixed. When not frowning, when not teased, when at ease – Isaac looks like a man entirely enjoying the spring of his life. Full of playfulness and boyish charm.

It is gone in a moment, but she trusts her eyes more than the slip of her mind.

She doubts she’ll make Isaac admit to such a thing, especially when he still seems to have problems keeping his blush at bay even when they brush shoulders accidentally, on the more crowded streets, but… she thinks this might be a date. Or at least that’s how dates in movies look like, since she cannot remember her own ones.

But they walk and talk. He takes her to his favourite café, and she has the best baguette of her life. The coffee sticks to her throat.

***

She reaches out, too much and too willingly. Trusting too much, fearing too little – it drives Isaac a bit crazy. He doesn’t have the bloom to go by. He never experienced love in his past life, focused on his studies as he’s been, and vampires can judge only by their thirsts. But it feels like way more than anyone has tried to do for him in a while, ever since Napoleon, and suddenly Isaac isn’t sure if he wants to call her a friend.

Or something more.

Mistake no. 3. He spends two hours on the kitchen floor, Sebastian stepping gracefully around him, drinking bottle of rouge after bottle of rouge, his lips turning redder and redder, the clawing feeling at his throat not quite disappearing.

***

“Luv,” Arthur says, and she flutters her eyes open, slowly, to him pushing her hair behind her ear.

She went unfocused there for a bit.

“That expression doesn’t suit you,” he continues, sighing.

She tries to scold her features better and focus on the game of chess in-between the two of them in the library. Leonardo is napping on the floor in the corner, a blanket she brought from upstairs over his shoulders. It’s been harder to control the pain, flaring up at random times – and she’s sure it still shows on her face, no matter how much she wants to actually hide it. It’s nothing much but discomfort, thrumming from deep inside her chest, but only for now.

It’s a bit annoying that Arthur somehow already picked it up. She frowns at him, pushing her piece across the table. From his own expression, she can tell it was a bold but completely stupid move. It’s fine; she hasn’t played chess in a long time and she didn’t expect to win in the first place anyway.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

“You know him better,” she closes her eyes again, turning her neck a bit – Arthur gets a bit distracted staring at the expanse of skin there. “What should I do?”

Arthur grins, his fangs sharp.

“I think you’ve been doing just fine.” He points a finger towards the clock on the wall, already several minutes past the time for Isaac’s meals.

She gets up, technically allowing him the win, leaving the room. Leonardo opens his eyes to peer up at the writer, and although they say nothing out loud, there’s some knowledge passing between the two of them regardless.

***

“Why did you stay until so late, then?” Sebastian asks, grateful that no matter how badly Isaac might need blood, he’s not just grabbing at his shirt and sinking his fangs in his skin, instead ripping from his hands a glass vial.

She’s away now, so his hunger is already slowly fading, as Isaac is trying to do calculus in his head, and more definitely not think about the time spent together, which just keeps adding up.

In the entrance hallway, she’s coughing, delicately trying to cover it up with her handkerchief. When Saint-Germain shows up, she gathers the two small flower buds that she coughed out in her handkerchief, and hides it in her pocket, smiling up at him instead.

The notion of having him as a dance partner staves off the pain, at least for a while, just a bit.

***

She gives and gives. Mistake no. 4: Isaac accepts. He doesn’t know how to say no, even when it hurts. He doesn’t know how to translate her own suffering, when he’s so happy to just have her near.

Isaac’s used with the thirst, nothing else he hasn’t experienced before. The trouble with love is that it feels fresh each and every time.

So while he thinks he has things under control, she most definitely doesn’t. When one chooses to pluck out the flowers growing in their chest, the memories disappear. The one who picks this path, will keep on making the same mistake, not recognizing the patterns, unable to grow with no roots grounding them in place.

So she falls, fast. When Isaac saves her, an upside down mirror of her first night here – not fear thrumming at her wrists this time around, but just the pleasure of having him near, she stumbles, and swears, and the words come out muffled.

She covers her mouth, looking up at Isaac like a deer caught by its hunter. He wants nothing else but – mistake no. 5. Isaac doesn’t stop: then and there, when the doubt starts coiling inside his stomach.

Instead, he offers himself as her company and gentlemanly ignores her when she asks for five minutes to freshen up. In the corner of the room in which she ducked to hide, Vincent pats her back, as petal after petal falls out from between her lips, until she’s left shivering.

And beautiful. Love is pain. Pain is beauty.

Maybe that’s why Isaac cannot look away, cannot keep away: because her cheeks blush with the prettiest of red each time he gets to close. He realizes he maybe pushed too hard simply because, in the fountain where before was only clear water, once he gets up – she’s surrounded by cherry blossoms.

The petals swim all around her, a child leans over to pick a few in her hands. An older lady tuts disappointingly at the two of them. Isaac reaches out a hand, fearful.

But what is he fearing? Why is he so afraid? If this is true –

No.

Mistake no. 6. Isaac cannot believe the obvious signs, because he doesn’t think he’s worthy of them. Men kill more hearts just by not trusting their own.

***

She shivers in the bathtub, the water getting colder, overflowing with flowers and petals. She’ll have to deal with that later – now she is busy counting up to 10, over and over again, trying to calm the thrumming of her heart, the desperate up and down of her chest: her hand pressed over the scar there.

She wonders: how long into these symptoms she got the removal done? How much did she think she could handle, before it all became too much?

Isaac, pushing at Napoleon’s shoulder, bites at his neck, fangs so painful that it makes the other man hiss. The soldier grabs at Isaac’s hair, enough to make eye contact.

“Slowly,” he urges, and Isaac’s grip on him relaxes, though his gulps still ring too loud in his head.

It brings him no pleasure, but his friend calms: with the warmth of another person, the fresh blood, hunger easier to be sated. The tug turns into pets, and Isaac places a kiss where he pierced the skin, lapping at the blood spilling out.

Napoleon sighs. “You’re wet. Let’s change, shall we?”

***

“This room is getting stifling, Toshiko-san,” Dazai says, coming around to check on Isaac.

They’re vampires, they’re supposed to heal and recover fast. Dazai just wants the bragging rights, that he cares the most out of their friends group. And also, maybe, Dazai wants to check the one rumour he has heard, which proves itself quite true.

Isaac is still asleep. Around him, overflowing from his desk and shelves and windowsill: flowers upon flowers, fully bloomed. Dazai sighs. The smell is almost sickeningly sweet – and she looks quite pale.

“I figured I’d be bothering him more if I were to take them out each and every time…”

Each and every time she bends her body over and coughs out flowers in exchange for his love, is the sentence that she doesn’t finish. She is also quite right. And despite it all, she is still here, right next to him.

What a little fool, their Toshiko-san.

***

They dance together, in front of several pairs of eyes, carefully noting each and every small detail, change in them. Like how Isaac’s pupils get the slightest bit more dilated, his fangs sharper, grazing his lips even with his mouth closed. Like how she can’t quite keep her back straight, how she doesn’t really speak.

Sometimes what remains unsaid means more. It is unbearable to hold each other like this, would have been even more unbearable if they didn’t.

Isaac disappears as fast as he appeared, and she’s left on the spot, hands clawing at her throat. She hunches over, clasps her palms to her mouth as she’s trying her damn hardest to stop breathing, to stop feeling. To calm the wave of emotions threatening to spill over, past her lips and in her lap, like a sky decorated with cherry blossoms.

“I believe it is a bit late for that,” Saint-Germain says.

And then they’re out.

***

In the afternoon glow, filtering through the stained glass, she looks beautiful. And Isaac is filled with need: not for her blood, to be fed – but for her love, as a man. His touch against her cheek is tentative and tender and that of someone begging to be held and pushed away at the same time.

Isaac isn’t sure yet which scenario he’s wishing hardest for.

She meets his eyes, and something in him goes even softer. It melts away everything in her.

“W-what is-? Why are you crying…?”

And despite not being hurt, she keeps crying. The tears are just that, in the beginning, and Isaac’s thumb passes over her skin, catching each and every one. She finds she cannot stop, once the dam has been broken: the happiness is suddenly too much. Here he is: just him and her, and he is touching her, and he is caring for her.

Much more than she thought she deserved, much more than she thought she’d get. Way too little compared to how much she still wants. So the tears keep spilling, never stopping. Then they’re not just tears anymore, a petal falling as well each and every time.

Isaac’s hold gets just a bit gentler, and that’s how she knows something is not quite right, before the petals start falling in her lap. Against her cheek, he clenches and unclenches his hands. Slowly, awkwardly, searching her face all along, he reaches out… and pulls her into an embrace.

She sniffles in the material of his shirt, his arms closing around her. The petals are cascading now more rapidly, down his back, and her hands claw at him.

“It’s going to be all right… Please, don’t cry.”

Of course, he can say that because he’s not the one spilling his feelings from his guts, betrayed by his body to show his feelings. He can say that because he is not dying from loving. She trembles in his arms, knowing she doesn’t deserve the comforting, knowing he doesn’t want her.

“… I’m sorry,” she whispers, and her hold on him tightens, and her tears fall even more furiously, accompanied by her pained wailing.

Isaac holds her, gentle as ever, his palms soothingly rubbing down her back. If he were to count the bones he can feel through the thin material of her dress, the numbers would be higher than in a normal human body.

Love taking roots, love taking over.

If she were to see his expression, she would find it pained, his face buried at the crook of her neck. But even when they untangle, Isaac covers his face with his palm, the downward tug at his lips, making his fangs visible, hidden from her.

Mistake no. 7: Isaac cannot tell the truth. Even worse, Isaac hides the truth, even when he knows hers is so painfully obvious, even when that so obviously pains her.

“Do you intend to return home?”

***

“Don’t go back…” Isaac says, laid on his back, her just a bit further to the left.

And while she’s staring at the open night sky in front of her, he can’t stop looking at her.

She shifts, coming up, suddenly coughing up the now familiar flower petals. They’re falling in-between her fingers, overflowing her hold. Isaac’s heart squeezes in his chest at the sight.

“Does it bother you?” she asks, in-between gasps of breath.

He looks at her, taken aback.

“This,” she shakes her hands in the air, the pink flowers falling all around her. “Knowing it’s you.”

Isaac chokes on his next words, and changes the topic. He can hear her, trying to keep in a new wave of coughing. He has accidentally heard her complain to Sebastian about the chest pain, how her muscles are aching with how much she’s been heaving, how her insides don’t feel quite alright anymore.

Her body, so small and frail, holding the weight of her entire, spilling love.

***

Isaac doesn’t like the way he gets when he’s hungry – it’s been worse these days, what with the desperate need of her as well. Sometimes, something alike a fog washes over him.

When he comes back to himself, he’s in a bed made of blood and flowers: scene of an almost-crime. She’s still breathing, and that’s all that really matters, but his head is foggy and there’s nothing to do but wait and pray, and pray and wait – and hate himself for all of it.

Isaac has only words to rely on in this scenario, for his feelings. And words tend to fail him already, so much and so often. And he tends to fail words as well, so obliviously.

If he can hurt her even like this, why does she love him?

If he can hurt her even like this, how is he supposed to hold on to this last piece of his humanity while actually accepting that he loves her?

Mistake no. 8. Isaac pushes her away.

***

“Sebastian,” she whines, because it’s the fourth time he’s brought up to her rooms only a bowl of the blandest soup.

He pushes at her shoulder, gluing her back to the pillow again – as it should be. She’s paler now, weaker, and in the air all around her room, the sweetest of fragrance, the spring back in his home country. Bouquets of flowers sprang from place to place since his last visit, and… he is fearful she might not make it for the door.

“Sick patients don’t get to complain about the schedule of an overworked butler.”

She pouts, even as she picks up the spoon. It hangs in-between her fingers.

“Sebastian?”

A beat.

“Yes?”

“Just… why?”

He sighs. “I don’t think anyone knows, or remembers for that matter. I just think it’s just the heart thinking it doesn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“So you get a person or you get the flowers? They’re pretty, but they’re cruel.”

Sebastian eyes her cracked lips, the petals of her flowers – living and still image of each other.

“So is love.”

A beat.

“Did anyone tell you that you make a terrible emotional support?”

He grins at her, this time flicking her forehead.

“Might have heard it several times before.”

***

“What do you think you’re doing, Newt?” Arthur asks, shoving his friend’s body against the wall, a bit too harshly, holding onto the collar of his shirt.

Isaac covers his hand in his, pushing. Arthur doesn’t let go, just lets out something that is between a growl and a sigh. Isaac, more or less, does the same.

“She’s bad,” Arthur says.

Isaac remains unfazed. “I know.”

“Worse, after all that blood loss.”

And only that – the guilt, makes Isaac actually realize that bad is not just the dull lull in her chest, but something more definite. Arthur would have never gone out of his way like this if that wasn’t the case. Only when the panic settles in, accompanied by a wave of anxiety so forceful Isaac almost feels like throwing up, does Arthur finally let go.

“You can lose her in two ways,” he says. “Pick the one you can live eternity with.”

***

She can’t really speak anymore – words too harsh on her throat, where buds are slowly crawling their way up. Someone comes by to prepare her a new cup of tea regularly, because it’s supposed to soothe the pain. She’s not sure it’s effective at all, but she also cannot complain much anymore, anyway.

Her coughing fits now can keep going for even half an hour at a time, and she cringes with each intake of air, because her muscles are aching so desperately for some kind of relief. She has nothing to give.

Theo comes and reads poetry to her, though she notices him skipping the love poems. Arthur plays chess with her again, though he’s not chiding her for taking too long this time around. Napoleon sits by her side, as they eat crepes together.

She misses a party, stuck in this waiting game, to see what comes first: her demise or her return. Isaac doesn’t – and in the span of a night, he makes a new friend in an old one and loses him too.

He doesn’t want to lose another person. Ever – if possible, or at least not in that way.

His hand trembles around the handle of the door, trying to gather his courage. The familiar scratching at his throat returns, stronger and stronger the longer he hovers.

He enters without knocking, and she looks up from a book she’s trying to read, startled. She immediately starts coughing at the sight of him; this time around, the petals fall freely all around her. Isaac shakes and trembles in the doorway.

“G-gods!” he says, and in two big steps, he’s closer to her bed. “You’re… this is… bad.”

She manages a weak smile at him.

“I know.”

His voice trembles. “How can you be so c-calm about this?”

She shrugs, though it’s just a tiny movement, barely there, so that she doesn’t trigger another coughing fit. She’s had so long to imagine herself at this point – just because it came faster than she expected, doesn’t mean she didn’t expect it at all.

He keeps his distance. Any closer and she’ll just explode in a bouquet of flowers.

“Y-you’ll soon get back and you can get help and-” Isaac is a blabbering mess and a stuttering fool, only for her.

“I won’t.”

“What?”

“Even if I return, I won’t.” She raises a hand to her chest, pressing it to a scar, that Isaac can notice from where her nightgown has slipped down her shoulder. “It would mean forgetting you.”

She raises her gaze, meets his. She’s begging, one last time. She’s telling him, in words this time. And Isaac stands there, stunned into silence, because if she is to have the same fate either way, what is he protecting her from in the first place?

“I love you,” he says, and for a long moment, there’s only silence stretching between them,

Then, he blushes, fidgeting on the spot, the words obviously out without having thought them. She struggles with her bedsheets, but is still fast enough, despite her weak body, to have gotten up on her own feet by the time Isaac is at her side, arms around her waist, to help her.

She licks her lips – chapped and pale things that they are, and looks up at him, exhausted and obviously pushing herself.

“Say it again. Say it and mean it,” her hands, fisted around the material of his shirt, eyes falling down with the request, too much and too late.

“I l-love you. I don’t…. Please don’t just disappear like that.”

His hold tightens around her body and she sighs.

“I love you too,” and she gets up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against him, nothing but a chase gesture.

Isaac closes his eyes, pulling her closer, opening his mouth, his tongue coaxing hers to follow suit. Which she does, so willingly and openly, and something in Isaac’s chest tightens, just the love he has for her. And something in her chest opens up, releasing, just the love she has for him.

When they part, all around them, branches of cherry blossoms surround them. It’s like her chest has been cut open, and everything fell over – and she is smiling, beautifully and honestly for the first time in weeks.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and Isaac buries his face at her neck, exhausted with the honesty, relieved at her health, so in love that it hurts – and maybe he understands her better than he wanted to admit, maybe he understood her all along.

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jornthur · 4 years

Text

“Unshaken” Chapter 10

Originally posted: June 8, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

The first mile was peaceful, and Arthur looked around as the wagon strolled down a narrow dirt path through the thick forest. The trees were tall, the hilly landscape like the huge waves of the ocean. His heart almost skipped a beat when he recalled those monstrous walls of water when he was on board that ship. Never again was he ever going on another damn boat as long as he lived.

He took in a deep breath, the smell and feel of the fresh forest air overcoming and relaxing his senses. It felt so good to be out in the wild again, he had to admit. He’d actually found himself missing the familiar scent of wilderness, reminding him of all those nights when he’d been out on his own, hunting, camping, whatever the hell he felt like doing.

Arthur almost laughed to himself then.

He was still here … still alive … still breathing … And the rest of the world believed he was dead, including his old friends — or what was left of them. Anger began to simmer deep within his gut at the thought of Dutch, Micah’s betrayal, what they’d done to him and John, the rest of the gang. He squeezed his eyes shut, lifting his hand to tug at the brim of his new hat, trying to find comfort in the new gift. All he could tell himself was that Marston was safe. The boy was an idiot, sure, but when it came to his family and their safety, Arthur knew nothing would stand in John’s way.

A gentle gust of wind hit him, blowing back his hair and cooling what little heat had begun to grow in his cheeks from the anger he felt. Arthur let out a sigh, allowing the cool feeling to seep into his skin. Looking around, he took in the surrounding views. He knew he was somewhere far north of Roanoke Ridge, but he’d never been up this far before Y/N and Austin had taken him in.

The place was beautiful, he thought, taking in the towering trees around them. He’d learned a few interesting terms from Y/N’s herbalist books. He’d been drawn to those bookshelves of hers many times while he’d been cooped up in that cabin, if only to avoid dying from boredom rather than Tuberculosis. Turned out he’d ended up drawn to the knowledge.

There were so many kinds of trees he could now identify— Spruce, Cedars, Pines, Oaks, and very many Sequoia trees. These trees were extremely tall, forming a thick canopy of leaves far overhead, the sunshine piercing through them in rays, hitting the ground with glowing warm light.

The air smelled so fresh as well, and Arthur took in another deep breath, relishing the real cool feeling in his lungs and the fresh and unique smells around him. There was so much plant life growing up here, all kinds of colorful flowers and foliage dotting the thick green grass everywhere. Damn, this area was gorgeous.

Arthur reached up again and stroked the feather on his hat gently, the bristles soft as, well, a feather. He gripped the crown and took the hat off, lowering it to his lap so he could examine it further. The black leather was worn, but genuine, and he could tell it was made from real cowhide, examining the hundreds of skin pores scattered all over. He ran a finger over the brown braided leather tied around the crown of the hat, similar to how his father’s hat had the looped rope. The texture was rough, but also soft, little furs sticking up here and there from years of use.

Then Arthur looked at the feather, and he squinted, his brows drawing down tight as he stroked the thing with the tip of his finger. It was that of a great-horned owl, a primary feather from the wing, the black and gold colored stripes giving away its identity. He wondered, then … why an owl feather? Maybe it was just something her grandfather hadn’t thought much about, but sometimes a certain kind of bird feather in a cowboy’s hat had a meaning behind it.

Thinking back, he recalled Y/N telling him that her grandfather hadn’t lived ‘the best life.’ That he’d been some kind of wanderer. Arthur found himself being curious as to what exactly she had meant. A wanderer?

What kind of life had the old man lived that had her hesitating to tell him the whole story? And what of the feather?

A cough escaped him, and he lifted a had to cover his mouth, clearing his throat then.

Austin looked over at him with curious eyes, “You alright, cowpoke?”

Arthur couldn’t help but give a small smile as he turned his head to face the young man, narrowing his eyes at him, “I’m just fine, little feller, how ’bout yourself?”

The brother narrowed his eyes in return, showing that he was clearly offended by the term Arthur had used on him, “I ain’t ‘little.’”

Arthur laughed, “Why, sure you is, little feller. As long as you call me a cowpoke, I’ll keep callin’ you little. Sound fair?”

Austin grunted, “Not really.” He reached up to scratch at his cheek, then added, “But you kinda do strike me as a cowpoke.”

“Well, you strike me as little, boah,” Arthur said with a grin, his voice a low rough tone as he patted his chest with an open palm, “And it’ll be much worse if you ain’t careful, son.”

Austin grunted, letting out a huff as if he wasn’t amused with Arthur’s teasing in the least.

Several more moments of silence passed, and Arthur gently placed the hat back on his head.

“So she decided to give you our grandfather’s hat, huh?” Austin asked, his voice sounding a bit sour as he cracked the reins again.

Arthur looked over at him, noting the expression the boy had on his face. He didn’t look angry, exactly, but from his eyes Arthur could tell there was some kind of story. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Austin let out a long sigh, “Well, I know she told you it belonged to our grandfather, and he weren’t the best man when he was alive. I never wanted to touch the damn thing after he died.” He lifted his eyes to meet Arthur’s, “Kinda feels weird that you’re wearin’ it, s’all.”

Arthur took that moment as a chance to find out what he could, maybe the brother could give him some of the information he’d been wondering about. “Who was he?”

Austin let out a sarcastic laugh, “I don’t think that’s for me to say. If she didn’t tell you, I don’t think I should be the one to do so.”

Arthur’s natural instinct would’ve been to reach out and choke the bastard to get the information he wanted. It was a feeling he was used to whenever assholes gave him a hard time, but he could respect the brother for looking after his sister.

Another curious thought occurred to him then, and he couldn’t help but ask, “What were y’all doin’ before you found me up on that mountain?”

He could see Austin freeze up at the question, and the young man turned his gaze over to look at him, “You mean that night? We were travelin’ back from Emerald Ranch. Y/N needed to do a trade for some of the supplies we needed for the horses. We have a few contacts scattered here and there for supplies we need that we can’t get up here, and sometimes we need to travel a ways to get them.

“We were supposed to arrive home sometime in the late evening, but we ran into this strange man on the road. He looked odd, short gray dreads, green bandana around his head, weird old clothing. Said his name was William.”

Arthur stilled at that.

“But anyhow,” Austin continued, not noticing that Arthur had suddenly froze, “he was camping out on the side of the road near Moonstone Pond, and he had all these strange plants he seemed to be workin’ with. Of course, it grabbed Y/N’s attention and he invited us over, so she and I stopped to chat with him for a while.” Austin chuckled as he recalled the memory, “What was supposed to be a small chat ended up bein’ a two-hour conversation. I didn’t really listen to what they were sayin’ since I was wrapped up in a book I’ve been readin’. Eventually I had to pull her away since it was gettin’ late.

“When we were just about to leave, she mentioned a special plant that grew over by O’Creagh’s Run, must’ve been somethin’ they were talkin’ about earlier. I was about to say no, but she gave me this look. She has this thing that she does with her eyes, drives me crazy ’cuz I can’t turn her down when she does it.

“So we headed over there, and I stopped the wagon by the small lake so she could explore the area. I just hung out under a tree with my book to pass the time … That’s when we heard the sounds.”

Arthur lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, “Sounds?”

“Gunshots, shoutin’ — We was goin’ to leave the area as quickly as possible, but — well, Y/N could hear the struggles, fighting, a man in pain, and she couldn’t stop herself.” Austin paused, as if he were deep in thought, “We saw someone runnin’ away from the mountain before they disappeared into the trees. I didn’t really get a good look at the man, but it looked like he had dirty, long blonde hair … someone you knew?”

The fury that suddenly welled in Arthur’s chest didn’t surprise him in the least damn bit.

Micah.

That damned rat.

The rat that weaseled his way in and ultimately destroyed the Van Der Linde gang in such a short amount of time.

Twenty goddamned years of loyalty and service to Dutch, and the old fool had decided to listen and believe someone who’d just joined the gang not half a year ago, a man who’d only been out for himself in the end … Just like Dutch …

“Arthur?”

Austin’s voice interrupted Arthur’s thoughts and snapped him back to reality. “Yeah, sorry ’bout that, kid. Just thinkin’.”

Austin seemed to have picked up on Arthur’s mood, no doubt from the gravel Arthur felt in his throat from the emotion that had just been about to take him over. He couldn’t dwell on such things, not right now. What good did it do?

At that moment another thought occurred to him, “You didn’t want Y/N takin’ me in, did you?” He stated it as fact since he knew the answer, but he found himself wanting to hear what Austin’s response would be.

The boy chuckled darkly, looking straight ahead at the narrow dirt trail. “Honestly, when we heard the gunshots, I thought it was going to be a trap, an ambush of some kind. But Y/N … When we reached that mountain and found you laying on that rock, it was like she didn’t care about anythin’ else in the world but you.” He cleared his throat, “The whole time I was worried that she was going to get herself killed, being so close to a stranger. I feared that something terrible would happen, like you would have a knife hidden on you, or a friend of yours would come leaping out of a hiding spot and shoot her dead.” Austin lowered his head, looking down at his lap as if lost in thought, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I would’ve done had that been the case. Y/N is my whole world right now, and she matters to me more than anythin’ else in my pathetic life.”

Arthur’s eyes softened, almost finding himself sympathizing with the poor boy, but he continued to listen.

“When she insisted on taking you to our cabin, I nearly lost it. Watching her take you in and nurse you back to health every day, I couldn’t help but fear for the worst. I still thought you had something evil planned. Some monsters would go to any length to take advantage and trick people like us to get what they want, even if it’s hurtin’ one of their own.”

The boy was smart, Arthur admitted to himself. There were definitely men like that out there, and he should damn well know.

“But when she mentioned you had Tuberculosis, and I began seeing the signs from you, how truly sick you were — I guess … Well, I guess I noticed how stupid I was bein’ at that point — but I was too proud to admit it.

“After you showed your skills with the gun, I realized you could’ve killed us both whenever you wanted long before that point. The thought was scary, of course, but finally seeing that all you needed was a gun or your bare hands to take us both out and you never did? Well, I guess you can say my stupidity wore off a lil’ bit at that point.”

Arthur grinned, amused with Austin’s confession at how much of an idiot he had been for all the trouble he’d given him.

But could he fully blame Austin? The boy was just looking after his sister, and Arthur couldn’t do nothing but respect him for it. “Don’t hurt yourself too much over it, boah. You’re just lookin’ after her, I understand. In fact,” he leaned back and rolled his shoulders, stretching out the tension in his back, “I kinda like that.”

Austin acknowledged his statement with a small nod and a smile. “I love her, I really do. She’s family, and the most wonderful person I know.” He narrowed his eyes at Arthur and teased, “If you ever hurt her, though, I’ll make sure to shoot you square in the chest, got it?”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed at the threat, “If you say so. But don’t you worry — I ain’t got plans for that.” The fact that the young man had the courage to actually threaten him was truly entertaining, and Arthur couldn’t help but note how much smaller the man actually was compared to him. Arthur had a good six inches on him in height, and a whole lot more muscle, despite the fact that he was still sick. The boy worked hard, but they clearly didn’t eat enough for him to gain a whole lot of meat on his bones. He was about as contrasted as he could be compared to Arthur.

He was grateful Austin had finally swallowed his pride down enough in order to ask him how to hunt. They truly did need it, and he would do his best to teach them. It was the least he could do for him and his sister after everything they’d done for him.

The next several moments were quiet, minus the sound of Lily’s hooves hitting the ground and the tittering of birds high up in the trees.

“So what’s it like livin’ up here?” Arthur asked. “It don’t seem too bad.”

“It ain’t,” Austin replied with a shrug, “It was tough for the first few months, but we managed. Built ourselves a camp, then eventually built ourselves a cabin — then the stables for the horses and other animals.” He cleared his throat, “Of course it’s been hard, what with my lack of huntin’ skills, but Y/N absolutely loves it. She enjoys bein’ surrounded by all the wildlife and plants.”

Arthur found himself suddenly more invested, wanting to know more about Y/N and her passions. “And her garden?”

“She’s been in love with flowers since she was a tiny thing. When we came up here, she brought a few supplies that belonged to our mother, and she got to work on that garden right away.” He let out a small laugh, “What started as a small batch of flowers and herbs turned into a small estate of all kinds of plants. She’s been finding different herbs all over the place and replanting them here for the past three years. Every month it gets larger and larger. I’ll admit, it looks pretty damn beautiful.”

Arthur grinned. “That is does,” he agreed with a nod. It did indeed, Y/N’s garden was a pretty good size, and the colorful shrubbery was a marvel to look at, truthfully. He’d been able to see it out through one of the windows as he’d been recovering on that couch all that time …

“So how are you feeling, Arthur?” Austin asked, breaking the silence.

Arthur turned his head to look at him, “What?”

Austin lifted a hand to point at his chest, “Your TB, you were coughing a bit earlier, just checking to see how you’re feelin’ now?”

Arthur rubbed his own palm over his chest, “I’m just fine, you’re sister’s got some healin’ magic goin’ on with those herbs of hers.”

The boy’s laugh was loud and sharp, “Y/N has a talent with nature, that’s for damn sure. I swear she may be Mother Nature herself.”

The two men’s laughter echoed through the trees as they travelled further down the trail. A squirrel skittered across the ground, and Arthur watched it disappear into the thick foliage on the other side.

More time passed, until finally they reached a small clearing. Arthur lifted his finger to point over to a small grassy area. “That’s a good spot to start.”

Austin pulled back the reins until Lily stopped, bringing the wagon to a halt. He looked over to where he was pointing and lifted a brow, “Really? Doesn’t seem like the kind of spot wildlife would be, it’s too open.”

Arthur gave him a bewildered look. “Wildlife don’t always need to be in a particular spot in order for you to track ’em, Austin.” He said, his drawl annoyed, letting the young man know through his tone that what Austin had stated was completely idiotic. He got up and climbed down out of the wagon, walking towards the small patch, “This area’s got plenty of plant-life, tellin’ you it’s a good spot to start pickin’ up trails.” He narrowed his eyes as he placed his hands on his belt, turning his head as he took in the surrounding forest. “It’s perfect for grazin’, plenty of cover ’round here if they need it.”

Austin crawled out of the wagon, grabbing his carbine repeater. It was smart — even though they didn’t need it for killing today, it was better to be safe than get caught off-guard by any wild predators. He walked over to Arthur, and Arthur began walking slowly across the grass, looking down to examine the dirt. “Now whatchu wanna do is look for any signs, footprints, fur, dung, broken branches and whatnot.” He took several steps forward, crouching low so he could see better.

Austin did the same, crouching to help look around for anything they could pick up. “So look for those things, got it.” He said, crawling low to the ground.

“You also wanna be quiet as possible, don’t wanna draw any attention towards yourself or you’ll scare off anythin’ nearby. Same thing can be said about your gun.” Arthur looked over his shoulder at him, “You ever use a bow before, boah?”

Austin shook his head, “Only a couple times when I was young. We got one up by the cabin stored in the shed. Another thing that belonged to our grandfather, but I never touched the damned thing.”

Arthur huffed, amused at the other man’s stubborn nature. “It’s a useful weapon, kid, it can be used to make quiet kills so you don’t frighten off any wildlife in the near vicinity.”

The young man just let out a grunt, “I ain’t touchin’ that thing.”

Arthur just shrugged at the boy’s pride, “Up to you, but I highly suggest you start learnin’ how to use it.”

Over the next several minutes, they examined the grounds, both of them crawling quietly through the tall grass.

“Arthur?”

Austin’s whispered voice reached Arthur’s ear, and he turned to see him waving his arm, gesturing for him to come over. He made his way over, and once he was beside Austin the kid pointed at a few small hoof prints in the soil. He smiled, “Good job there, feller, now see if you can follow them.”

The boy nodded and did just that. Over the next half hour, Arthur continued to help him by pointing out other signs, such as crushed grass, a couple broken branches, and bits of fur here and there. The last sign was several strange marks on one of the trees twenty yards away. ‘Tree rubs,’ of course.

“This way,” Arthur whispered, leading them quietly through a few tall bushes.

Finally they reached a new wide-open clearing. This one had a small pond directly in the center, and in the distance, Arthur spotted the white-tailed buck grazing on some of the lush green grass at its feet.

For a moment, Arthur froze, recalling all the dreams he’d been having. The buck looked so similar to the one in his dreams; the size, the coat, the large antlers it displayed. Every single detail was precise.

Austin sat beside him, and Arthur felt rather than heard the boy lifting his gun.

At that moment, a doe and two young fawns appeared from behind one of the large boulders, the three of them approaching the large buck.

Arthur grabbed the barrel of the gun before Austin could aim the thing.

He watched as the doe came over to the buck with the two young close behind her, and the creatures nuzzled each other lovingly.

It was a sight that Arthur found himself lost in, and he couldn’t help but think of his own family, what was, what could have been, what might have been … If he’d only chosen a different life for himself …

What the hell was wrong with him?

“What the hell are you doin’, Arthur?”

Austin’s voice echoed his thoughts, snapping him back out from his mind. Arthur cleared his throat, “Let’s leave ’em be, kid.” He was going to leave it at that, but then he added “We promised Y/N, remember? Just trackin’.”

Austin gave him a strange look, but after a couple of moments he seemed to decide not to argue with him. “So what now?”

Arthur gazed at the family of deer a few seconds longer, then he flicked his gaze over to Austin, “I don’t know. I reckon we should head on back,” he turned to face the younger man, “You suppose your ready to travel back?”

Again with that strange look, what the hell was Austin seeing? Had Arthur suddenly grown his own pair of antlers? What was running through that boy’s mind?

Finally, he answered, “I guess so, I think I learned plenty today.” They both stood quietly and started heading back towards the wagon. Austin tucked the gun strap over his shoulder, reaching up to scratch at his cheek again. “I’ll admit that was actually quite fun. Thanks, Arthur. You’re a pretty great tracker, in all honesty.”

The compliment felt strange, Arthur thought, especially coming from Austin of all people, but he supposed he would take it. The boy was grateful, having learned something that would be incredibly useful for him and his sister when it came to their survival. “It ain’t no cake walk after this, boah. We still got a long way to go, trackin’ requires a lot of patience — an eagle’s eye.”

Austin nodded, giving him a small smile, “I suppose that makes sense. A lot of patience — kinda like fishin’?”

Arthur let out a genuine laugh at that, “I guess you’re right.”

2 Weeks Later …

Birds tittered high up in the trees, singing there own unique songs as the sun’s rays bore down on your back. The weather was absolutely gorgeous today, you thought to yourself as you knelt in your garden. You were in a cheery mood, humming softly as you pruned several of the herbs and flowers. You looked over your shoulder to see that Arthur was still relaxing on the porch swing, working on something in his journal. Writing or drawing? You had no clue, but you were going to leave him to his privacy.

The last two weeks had been quite the ride.

Arthur’s body was improving, his skin and muscles filling back out with each passing week. Even though his blood still showed signs of leftover Tuberculosis bacteria, it was clear his body was slowly but successfully fighting it off. You continued to give him treatments every other day, and he still took daily doses of honey per your instructions.

But despite the fact his body was getting better physically, you knew the herbs and medication still had a large impact on both his physical and mental state, so you still urged him to be cautious with his actions so that he didn’t overwork himself too much. It was crucial for him to stay in a calm state so his mind and body wouldn’t somehow become unstable.

He’d been sleeping a lot better. Every night you woke up to check on him, and Arthur was sleeping peacefully every time. Truly, it made you happy to see him so relaxed now. Ever since you’d sung that lullaby for him so many nights ago, that nightmare of his hadn’t seemed to come back. Though you still wondered who this John was, no matter how much it bothered you, you didn’t want to risk bringing anymore pain to Arthur.

For the past several days Arthur had been on his feet helping out around the cabin, whether it was doing chores or hunting with Austin, he managed to keep himself busy throughout the day. He was regaining the muscle and healthy tone he’d no doubt once had before, his face, eyes, and cheeks becoming full once more, and he was beginning to gain a tan from being out in the sun so much now.

Ever since you had given it to him, not once had Arthur ever taken off his new hat. Unless he was asleep or bathing, the thing rarely ever left his head.

It really did look good on him.

You had to admit, the man was absolutely stunning. Whenever he worked or did any kind of physical labor, you couldn’t help but watch those muscles in his body sometimes, how they moved and flexed beneath his skin, noting the healthy shine of sweat on his face, his neck, his forearms, and God help you, but sometimes he went shirtless when he worked, and it was all you could do not to throw yourself at the man. Push him to the ground and take him there and then —

What on earth was wrong with you? You shook your head hard, trying to perish those dirty thoughts from your mind. You weren’t exactly a plucked flower, but you’d read enough romance novels to give yourself plenty of naughty imagination.

Letting out a sigh, you plucked another dead leaf. There were so many scars across his body, old and new, but one stuck out to you the most. You recalled the scar you’d seen on Arthur’s chest, just above his left pectoral. There was no doubt it was a gunshot wound, the scar tissue around it having sunken down into the ruined flesh. It had long since healed, but the skin there was still pink, still soft, so it hadn’t been too long since it was inflicted on him. Again you wondered, what had happened to him? Who’d shot him? Why? The thoughts of possibility raced through your head, but going off his nature and what you’d seen of him thus far, you couldn’t come to a conclusion or even imagine why anyone would want to hurt that man.

Reaching out to crush another dead leaf, you smiled to yourself.

Arthur was strong … indeed he was a fighter.

You’d slowly been getting more and more comfortable with the thought of Arthur going out with Austin on his hunting trips, allowing them to start traveling out as far as they needed to go. Food was getting low, and finally you’d told the two boys that they could start hunting for game if they wished. You were proud of them both, for keeping to their word and staying safe.

You could tell your brother was improving with his skills thanks to Arthur, just last week they had managed to bring back a boar, and Arthur had told you that your brother had managed to track it down on his own, but Austin had admitted that he’d missed the first few shots, and Arthur had to kill the boar himself. The two had slowly been getting along, you’d noticed. It was more than refreshing to see.

Arthur had been helping Austin out with his aim several times over the last two weeks, the two of them practicing down by the stream in the late evenings.

You would stay back and watch to observe every chance you got. Honestly, you secretly wished it was you Arthur was teaching. To show you how to handle a gun, how to aim it, how to shoot. You had no idea how to use a weapon, so you picked up whatever you could from the two of them.

Your brother had recently started working with your grandfather’s bow, which confused you at first, since he’d always insisted on using his own carbine repeater. But then he’d explained to you that Arthur had told him it was a stealthy hunting tactic in order to capture more game.

Finally, you’d understood. Winter was slowly approaching, and it was more than important to learn how to use a much quieter weapon, especially when wildlife was so much more scarce during the cold parts of the year.

But — despite countless hours of practice — Austin hadn’t managed to get the hang of it, which worried you somewhat. Poor man, each time he tried aiming an arrow, the thing would wobble in his grip and the shot itself ended up with the arrow landing on the ground only a few feet away. No matter how Arthur instructed him, it seemed hopeless. At one point Austin had nearly thrown the thing into the stream, shouting something about how the bow wasn’t working properly. But Arthur had tested the thing for himself, and of course it worked flawlessly when he’d used it, the arrow finding its mark perfectly on one of the trees he’d been aiming for..

You’d found yourself strangely drawn to the weapon, you had to admit, though you weren’t quite sure why.

The bow itself was very beautiful. The long round limbs were made of dark maple wood, painted with some kind of glossy coating to protect the wood from wear and tear. The handle was wrapped in finely engraved black leather strips. There were several more curly engravings that ran along the weapon itself, and two small metal owl heads were placed at each end, the beaks holding the tight silver bowstring.

A part of you really wanted to try it out for yourself at some point.

The two men were planning on going on another hunting trip today, so it was going to be another quiet evening alone at the cabin for you. Strangely enough, even though you finally felt comfortable with them both being gone, you still weren’t quite used to it.

“How you doin’ there, Y/N?”

Arthur’s deep voice nearly had you jumping out of your skin. You leapt to your feet and turned around to face him. “Arthur!” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat, “I didn’t hear you comin’ over.”

Grinning, he let out a soft chuckle, “Sorry bout that, honey, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re fine,” you said, waving off his apology.

He looked over your shoulder at the plants behind you, “So what’re you doin’?”

You turned to look down at the herbs you’d been working on, “Oh, well I was just pruning some of the plants.” At his questioning look you added, “Sometimes some of the leaves or stems die and I need to take them off, otherwise it could cause disease and the nutrients inside the plants are wasted trying to feed what’s no longer alive. When I get rid of the dead pieces it allows them to focus on keeping the rest of the plant strong and healthy.”

Arthur nodded, though you had the feeling he was only pretending to understand what you were talking about in order to make you feel better, going by the confused look and his face; his eyes narrowed, his mouth her in a small grimace. “So these herbs,” he cleared his throat, “them what you used to treat my TB with?”

His curiosity nearly had you taken aback. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected him to care enough to ask such a question. “Yes,” you said, your voice soft as you looked up at him, “I — I gather pieces from them from time to time and make several elixirs and medications from their properties.” You pointed to one of the plants, “That right there is Ginger, it’s used as an antioxidant, which can help take care of some of the negative effects caused by most bacterias.” You pointed to several others, giving the names and explaining what each of them did.

By the time you’d named a few more, you looked back at Arthur, and his brows were drawn down tight, his hand rubbing at the side of his temple as if he’d gotten a headache. You nearly laughed, “I’m sorry, Arthur, I tend to get carried away sometimes.”

Arthur lifted a brow as if he were actually amused, “I can tell you really enjoy your work,” he said, a wide grin stretching those lips of his, “It’s really amazin’. You should be proud, honey.”

You lowered your eyes, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks, “Thank you, Arthur. I honestly wouldn’t know as much as I did without my mother’s journal. She taught me so much.” You voice nearly hitched, and you blinked several times in order to keep any tears from welling.

Arthur reached out and laid a warm hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you, “I’m sure she’d be real proud of you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded in answer.

Several moments passed, and Arthur spoke again, “Austin mentioned to me that you ran into a man named William?”

Your head jerked up that that, surprised. “He told you about that?”

Arthur nodded, “The night you saved me from that mountain, told me you met an herbalist the same day. Quite a character.”

Your brows lifted, “You know him?”

“Yeah. Met him a few times, a long while ago, before — Well, before all that shit went down.”

“Language, Arthur!”

You both laughed, and he tipped his hat to you.

He was truly adorable, you thought as you smiled at him. You lifted your gaze to look at the hat. “So, how you liking your new hat, Arthur?”

Your question had him letting out a laugh as he ran his fingers across the leather brim. “Keep’s the sun outta my eyes, like you said,” he teased. His eyes softened then, those beautiful sapphire-emeralds seeming to stare directly into your soul. “Thank you, Y/N.”

His grateful smile alone nearly overwhelmed you, and you quickly spoke your next words before you found your idiot-self getting lost in his gaze. “I’m glad you like it. My grandmother made that hat for our grandfather when they were both young. It was … meant to stand for something … but he didn’t do it justice with the life he led. It needs to be worn by a good man. Someone like you.”

Arthur’s expression seemed to change at that moment, and you couldn’t help but notice the softness in his eyes suddenly grow hard.

•••••

A good man.

It was all Arthur could do not to lose himself then and there. To take the hat off and give it back to her immediately, to leave and never turn back even once. Dammit, he didn’t deserve to be here. He didn’t deserve the treatments he’d been given, all the hospitality, the food and shelter that Y/N and Austin had so generously given.

He wasn’t a good man, and he damn well knew it.

It was the second time she’d called him that, and he nearly had to bite his tongue. But what could he possibly say to her at that moment? That he wasn’t the man she truly thought he was? That he’d been a liar? A thief? A ruthless killer?

An outlaw …

Arthur did his best not to squeeze his eyes shut from the sudden pain that welled in his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? There was nothing he could say or do to get past the ache in his heart from those words.

For once, he was extremely grateful to hear that sill boy’s scratchy voice calling out to both of them.

Y/N smiled, looking over Arthur’s shoulder, “Austin, how are ya?”

Austin came jogging over, his face and clothes covered in dust and dirt from whatever work he’d been doing earlier. He stopped a few feet in front of them, “I’m doin’ just fine, sis,” he panted, nodding at Y/N and meeting Arthur’s gaze. “Hey, Arthur, so you ready for our next huntin’ trip?” The young man asked him, a naive yet excited smile spread across his face. Over the past two weeks he’d learned to enjoy the trips, getting to learn something new from them each and every time.

Arthur shrugged with a small chuckle, “That depends, are you?” He nodded at the dirt covering the boy.

Austin scratched his cheek, “Yeah, sorry about that, sir.” He brushed off the dirt from his clothes, “It ain’t nothin’, Just noticed the two of you over here and I wanted to see if you were prepared to head out.”

Over the last several days, Austin had grown the strange and somewhat annoying habit of calling him sir, and Arthur didn’t really know why. Was he trying to show some sort of respect toward him? Maybe after acting like such a dumbass over the past month, he might’ve thought addressing Arthur in that way would gain him redemption? It felt odd, and Arthur really wished he wouldn’t call him that, but he’d go along with it if it made the younger man feel better.

“Well, Austin,” Arthur said, clearing his throat, “Ready when you are, then.”

“Dandy! I found an interestin’ new spot I think we should go check out a ways up north, the wagon’s already loaded up and ready to go.” Austin stated, pointing over toward the stables where the coach stood, with Lily already attached to it. The boy was quick, Arthur thought. He must’ve been busy getting everything prepared while he and Y/N had been working on their own tasks.

Arthur lowered his eyes. On one hand he didn’t want to leave Y/N so abruptly, but on the other he needed to escape the tension that had suddenly risen in his gut from her words. A good man … how could he follow up that line with any further conversation? It hadn’t angered him, but he was tired of hearing it — from anyone. He gave a single nod, “Let’s head out, then.”

As Austin nodded and headed off toward the wagon, Arthur looked back over his shoulder to meet Y/N’s gaze, “We’ll be back soon, honey.” He said softly, winking and giving her a small grin. He hoped she wasn’t disappointed, but he needed to get out of there. Clear his head.

But she didn’t look upset. No, instead her eyes absolutely glowed as she gave him another one of her beautiful smiles. “Y’all stay safe, Arthur.” After a slight moment of hesitation, she returned his wink, “You keep Austin safe now.”

Her teasing helped the tension ease away somewhat, and he let out a chuckle, “Don’t you worry, I’ll keep him in line.”

With that, he headed over to join Austin on the wagon.

•••••

“So where we headed?” Arthur asked as Austin steered Lily up the narrow trail through the tall sequoia trees. He and the younger man waved farewell to Y/N with her returning the gesture as they disappeared around a large rock.

Austin lowered his hand, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Arthur, “There’s this new place I wanna check out, passed by it a few days ago while ridin’ Butch. Seemed interestin’.”

Arthur took the map and held it up, looking over a simple drawing of directions. They appeared to lead up north towards the larger mountains, further into the forest.

The kid pointed at a thick scribble he’d made on the paper, “That area right there, it’s right at the foot of the mountains between the trees. A small area of tall grass. I saw a family of elk there a couple times. If we can spot them again, I’m sure we can bring back enough food to last us for a month.”

What he said was true, one elk could last them quite a while. If they managed to kill one, they’d be set for weeks. Arthur folded the map back up and handed it back, “You seem to know what you’re doin’,” He said with a light laugh.

Austin shook his head, “Only a little, sir, it’s why I thought it best for you to come along on this one.”

Arthur shrugged, “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough, kid,” He reached out and patted the man’s shoulder. “I’ll look after ya.”

The younger man narrowed his eyes, “I don’t need no hand-holdin’, Arthur.”

Arthur’s heart suddenly skipped at those words, his smile dropping from his face as his eyes grew flat.

Those words … when had he last heard those exact words —

A memory flashed through his mind … Lenny …

He flinched, lowering his head as he reached up to tug down the brim of his hat, hiding his expression from the brother. The pain was almost unbearable … coming back to bit him in the ass once more.

The loss of his friends, of his family — it had only been a couple months, and the agony still felt just as sharp, as though it had only been yesterday when his life had completely fallen apart.

… What life, though?

Arthur nearly wanted to laugh at himself from the thought.

His family had meant everything to him, the bond they’d shared more real than anything else in the world.

But Arthur would be lying to himself if he’d thought what they had was any kind of real life. He’d spent the majority of his chasing a dream for a life he weren’t even sure about, along with the rest of the gang who’d followed over the years. He’d failed all of them. Hosea, Lenny, Kieran, Sean, Grimshaw, Mac, Davey, Jenny … they’d all had their own lives snatched away from them so abruptly.

They’d never had the chance for the life they’d so desperately fought for.

And the others … Charles, Sadie, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Uncle … Karen, Swanson, Trelawny … Where were they now?

The wonder of their whereabouts prodded his mind like a hot poker every single day. Even though he tried so hard to move on in hopes that they would do the same and lead normal lives, it was extremely difficult to do so. He only hoped they were all safe. They all deserved so much more after all the shit they went through in the gang.

And Jack, Abigail, John …

Arthur lifted his eyes to stare up at the sky, the sun’s bright rays peeking through the small clouds.

‘You’re my brother.’

Those words echoed through his mind, and he allowed himself a sad smile. He thought back to Sister Calderon, the words she’d spoken echoing in his head. ‘Take a gamble that love exists.’

Arthur wasn’t the religious type, but deep inside his heart he prayed for the sake of John and his family, for their safety, so that they may go on to live the lives they’d damn well earned.

John Marston. The man was a goddamn fool, but he loved Abigail and Jack, and Arthur knew he’d do anything to protect them.

They were safe.

He knew, deep down in his heart something told him. They were out there.

Time passed by quickly, and finally the wagon stopped. Arthur felt the seat lift as Austin hopped out, and he shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing that they’d arrived at the foot of the mountains. Arthur looked around, taking in the small grassy clearing. He raised a hand to lift the brim of his hat, looking up at the base of the mountain, a tall cliff that encircled half of the area. The other half was enclosed by the thick forest of trees that towered over them, their green and multi-colored coming-autumn leaves providing cool shade to the tiny meadow.

“We’re finally here,” Austin said cheerfully as he rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs. He walked behind the wagon to grab his carbine repeater.

Arthur examined the area closely. Indeed, it was a great area for wildlife of all kinds. Plenty of grass, soft ground, perfect temperature, and shelter. He narrowed his eyes, noting a small cave opening at the base of the cliff. It was too small for a bear or cougar, so it was probably just a family of deer, he thought. Still, they had to be cautious. It was an unexplored area. He looked over his shoulder as Austin approached him from behind and stared at the gun he held, “You need to get a handle on that bow soon, kid.” He said teasingly.

“I know, I know, and I ain’t a kid!” Austin snapped, “I’ve been tryin’ but I’m just hopeless with the damn thing!”

Arthur nearly laughed at the blush that crept into Austin’s cheeks as he looked away, unable to meet Arthur’s gaze.

He really had been trying his best, Arthur did notice, but the bow was turning out to be the boy’s natural enemy. Either he weren’t a good teacher, or the bow was truly hopeless for him. Where was Charles when he needed him, Arthur thought almost sadly.

Arthur shook his head at the thought, then threw his hand up in the general direction. “Lead the way.”

Austin gave a small but nervous nod, stepping forward and leading them both across the grass towards the cliff. They crept slowly and quietly, staying low to the tall grass to avoid being spotted by any of the nearby wildlife. There were small sounds here and there as Austin examined the grounds, but they were mostly from squirrels or small rabbits. Since Austin only had the gun with him, they weren’t going to risk scaring off any larger game by shooting and possibly missing smaller targets. Arthur had taught him to be careful with such things.

Gradually they got further and further away from the wagon, and Austin led Arthur towards the foot of the cliff. “There,” the younger man whispered, pointing toward some hoof-prints that had been left behind in the ground. They created a trail, and the two men followed it, making their way around the cliff. Finally, the tracks stopped at the base of some large rocks that formed a small ramp towards the top of the cliff. Austin began to climb, and Arthur followed behind him, as quiet as they could possibly be.

Suddenly a small rock bounced down from atop the cliff, landing in the small meadow below, and Arthur looked up, spotting a small glimpse of large antlers just over the peak. “There’s one,” Austin whispered next to him, having seen them as well.

“Alright, get your gun ready,” Arthur whispered back as they approached the top. His heart was racing, but he forced himself to calm down as they reached the top of the plateau. The elevated area was covered in thick foliage, and the two men hid behind the thick shrubbery as they made their way over to a large rock that provided solid cover.

Austin slowly and quietly cocked the gun, peering over at the large creature nibbling on some of the grass by the cliff-edge. It was a huge bull elk, appearing to weigh at least seven hundred and twenty-five pounds. The creature was definitely large, larger than any Arthur had seen in a long while. The creature was magnificent, he thought. The meat on its bones could definitely keep them fed for weeks.

He looked over at Austin, noticing that the boy was breathing hard, creating too much noise. “Calm yourself,” Arthur muttered, “Elk can hear very well, take a deep breath and let it out slow.”

Austin did as he was told, closing his eyes as he did so. “Alright,” he whispered, then he slowly began scooting forward. He crouched carefully, propping the barrel of the gun on the tip of the boulder.

A small loose rock was knocked off as the weapon was adjusted, landing with a small crack on the hard ground. The elk snatched its head up, its ears perked in their direction. It looked over toward their spot, and before Arthur could stop what happened next, Austin quickly stood from behind cover and fired the repeater.

It was so quick, the kid having not given himself the proper aiming stance, and the recoil shot him backwards, the bullet missing the elk as it pinged off the one of the rocks several feet away. The creature jumped, bounding off quickly in the opposite direction. Austin lifted his gun and fired a few more rounds as it fled down the cliff.

“What the hell are you doin’?!” Arthur grabbed the man’s firing arm as the elk disappeared into the forest below, Lily whinnying and rearing in the wagon as the creature sped by her.

The boy grunted from the small pain of his fall, “I’m sorry, sir,” he grimaced as he stood slowly, “I thought — I thought it heard us, I wanted to try and get it before it ran away —”

“Of course it heard us, you goddamn fool!” Arthur snapped, anger boiling in his blood. “But it didn’t see us! Now the whole damn forest knows we’re here.”

Austin lowered his head, no doubt feeling ashamed from his actions.

“All you had to do was stay still,” Arthur growled, snatching the firearm from Austin’s grip. “Start headin’ down to the wagon. Ain’t no hope of gettin’ anything out here now.”

The boy didn’t say anything, only giving a small nod as he turned away and headed towards the rocks. It was more than clear the man knew he’d made a mistake, and Arthur was more than upset with him. The next few moments were quiet as they started making their way down the way they’d came.

As soon as they reached the meadow, Arthur halted in his tracks, placing a hand to Austin’s chest to stop him, “Hold on.”

Austin looked at him questioningly, “What is it, sir?”

Arthur didn’t answer as he skimmed his gaze over the tall grass. Something wasn’t right. It was way too damn quiet …

Just then, a massive wolf lunged out of the shrubs from behind, jumping up and catching Arthur on his left shoulder, its sharp teeth sinking deep as its claws caught his flesh.

“Arthur!” Austin yelled.

Arthur shouted in pain as the force knocked him forward, his hat falling away as the heavy weight of the wolf bore down on his body. The gun was knocked out of his hands, and he hit the ground hard. His heart began to beat fast as sharp snarling noises pierced his ears, sharp claws digging deep into his shoulders, Arthur cried out as his flesh was torn open, and he began to struggle, trying his best to flip onto his back. He wasn’t going out without a fight.

The massive gray wolf was unbelievably strong, but Arthur managed to grip the wolf’s head, crushing its skull between his hands as hard as he could until the wolf let go, jumping off his body momentarily. He looked over to see the gun lying on the ground just a couple feet away.

Arthur flipped himself over just before the beast made another attempt and leapt back onto him, its teeth bared for another bite as it aimed for his throat. But Arthur barely managed to block its target by taking hold of the wolf’s neck with a single hand, using the other to try and reach for the gun. Blood was seeping from his neck and shoulders, and his heartbeat began rushing throughout his entire body as the sharp teeth gnashed and snapped just inches away from his face, getting closer as his strength grew weaker.

He let out a loud guttural sound and gathered all the strength he had left, finally managing to grip the gun and swing it through the air, using the butt of the handle to knock the large beast off of him. He staggered to his feet, aiming quickly as he fired the weapon, hitting the wolf square in the chest just as it rushed towards him again. With a loud whine the thing fell to the ground dead, and Arthur’s head whipped around as he heard more growling.

Two more wolves had crept out of the bushes and had cornered Austin near the cliff. The kid looked absolutely terrified as the beasts stalked toward him, his body having frozen entirely.

“Austin!” Damn him if he was going to let another person die on his watch.

Arthur’s gaze began to spin as he aimed at the wolves. He cocked the weapon, but he was seeing damn near triple of everything around him. He was losing blood fast, and he nearly collapsed as he began to feel light-headed. With no other choice, he let out a hard huff, and with everything he had left he lurched across the grass and lunged forward, pushing Austin aside just in time right before one of the the wolves ran towards them.

The heavy creature tackled Arthur’s body hard, causing him to collapse again as the weapon was knocked out of his hands once more. The butt of the cocked gun hit the ground and went off, a sharp whine echoing through the trees as the stray bullet miraculously hit the other wolf. It ran off, leaving a heavy trail of blood in its wake.

As the last wolf held Arthur to the ground, he thought this was going to be it. He had nothing left, he felt absolutely nothing, his mind having completely turned off as his own blood seeped out onto the ground beneath him, his weak limbs refusing to move as his vision began to dim.

Suddenly, another gunshot went off, and he felt a heavy weight fall onto his body. It was soon pushed off, but he found himself unable to care as his heartbeat started drumming between his ears.

Arthur looked up at the sky, his breathing barely audible as he struggled to take in any air. Everything had happened so damn fast … He could hear someone calling out his name. A man’s voice, but who? A blurry figure appeared over him as a dark red haze began to creep in around his vision, or was that just his imagination? Something hard pressed into his shoulder, and the pain shot through him like a lightning bolt.

Flashes began going through his mind, each one followed by his slowing heartbeats.

Two crosses, placed side by side …

… A large buck, lifting its head as it gazed off into the distance …

… The sun, setting just over the horizon.

Arthur thought of watching the sunrise … the last time he’d had this ethereal feeling … back wherever he’d been. A sunrise, now a sunset …

He felt his body getting lifted … was he finally leaving?

Just before he closed his eyes, a long howl echoed through his head.

•••••

— To Be Continued

#unshaken #chapter 10 #part 10 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #slow burn #romance #arthur morgan #fanfic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine

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fedeipox · 4 years

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The Way of Time (Rdr2 - fanfic) - Chapter 8 (1/3)

Previously on TWoT: Finally, Arthur went back to camp. On his way back he found Emily wandering around and decided to take her to Citadel Rock to get her lavender. On the way back they met some O’Driscoll and to help Arthur she ended up killing a man, her first man. He won’t be the last.

Chapter 8 (1/3) - Bounty Hunter

Words: 2k

Emily didn’t think her little runaway would be noticed by someone and only when she and Arthur dismounted the horse she understood how worried and angry people in camp were. Mary-Beth came running and screamed “where were you?”. Right after Miss Grimshaw showed up telling her how disappointed she was by her behavior.

In a few words: Miss Grimshaw thought her disappearance had something to do with the O’Driscoll thing and ran to tell Dutch and Hosea about it. Both of them weren’t pleased to know what she had done.

“Well, thank you very much. Really, thank you for your trust and for worrying about me” she murmured to the group of people who had gathered around her for the reproach. Then, moving Tilly aside, she walked away, with her head still full of all the recent events and especially the fact that she had just killed a man.

She spent the rest of the evening lying down and crying. No-one bothered to go ask her something, but instead they went to Arthur to ask him what had happened. He told the story at least five times that evening, to five different groups of people and so everybody knew about their little terrible adventure. Hosea thought about go and talk to her, but he knew that his apologies were worth nothing. Besides he couldn’t understand the others’s behavior: she had just made a mistake, it wasn’t such a big deal.

“A mistake that might have cost us our lives, Hosea. And hers first of all” Arthur told him.

“But it didn’t. History isn’t made of possibilities, but of facts.”

Arthur grunted and walked away, but he knew Hosea was right when he said everybody was being too tough with that girl.

The day after, Emily opened her eyes, still puffy because of the crying of the night before. It was still early in the morning and almost nobody was awake yet, so she sneaked among the tents and reached the kitchen where she took some canned peaches. Then, she reached the edge of the cliff and seated on the rock, her rock, to watch the sun rising in the sky.

“Good morning.”

Turning her head she exchanged a quick look with Dutch before she fixed her eyes on the landscape again.

“Quite a fuss you caused yesterday. I think I’ve never seen Miss Grimshaw in such a…”

“I don’t care about how Miss Grimshaw was because of me” she replied coldly.

Dutch signed and walked closer until he stopped right by her side, but still she didn’t look at him.

“Well, you should.”

“I have apologized.”

“I’m not talking about apologies. When Miss Grimshaw acts that way is because she is worried about one of her girls, and yesterday she was worried about you.” “She didn’t seem worried, she seemed angry.”

“Exactly. You’ll soon understand Susan has her own way to show feelings.”

Emily didn’t know what to think: if what Dutch was saying was true, then those people really cared about her and they were really worried, and Miss Grimshaw most of all. So she forced herself to get over it, trying not to think anymore about Kieran, the slap, the run and the reproaches.

She finished her peaches and walked to the kitchen. There, Abigail was sipping her coffee with Mrs. Adler and at Emily’s ‘good morning’ the former answered kindly while the latter moved her eyes away and pursed her lips in dislike. Was she still angry at her because of that story?

“Mr. Pearson you still have that oil for me, don’t you?” she asked as he reached the cook.

He gave her what she had asked for and then she took an empty jar and the mortar. She brought all the tools and ingredients to the round table, took the lavender she had picked up the day before and put herself to work.

The process was easy: she had to crush the lavender flowers with the mortar, let them dry in the sun for a couple of days, put them in the jar with the oil and make it cook in the boiling water for one hour.

She had just began when Hosea walked closer with a cup of coffee. He sat down opposite to her and looked at her as she was working, taking a sip of the dark liquid every now and then.

“I’ve seen you do it often too” she stated as she crushed the flowers in the mortar. “What do you prepare?”

“Mostly medical stuff. Like yarrow and ginseng, together they’re great for health.”

“That’s why you knew where to find the lavender, you have a great knowledge of plants.”

“I have a discreet knowledge of plants” he chuckled.

“You are too modest.”

For all the time they talked, Hosea didn’t mention once Kieran nor her disappearance and Emily was glad of that. All she wanted was to forget that story and she wished she wouldn’t make other mistakes of that kind in the future. She was feeling rather pacific, finally getting over everything that had happened, when something slipped inside her mind, something she hadn’t thought about until that moment and that made her panic.

...

Hosea felt the change in her state of mind and immediately asked a concerned “what’s wrong?”

“I-I haven’t told you what happened with Arthur” she murmured with a new strange trembling voice.

Hosea knew what she was talking about and immediately calmed down, took a deep breath and got ready for one of his speeches.

“He told me. Well, in truth, he told everyone.”

Her breathing was becoming irregular and that pushed Hosea to stand up and reach her side of the table.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again keeling down in front of her, but he didn’t need to ask, he knew what she was thinking about.

“I-I forgot. How could I forget?” she whispered with her eyes lost in the nothingness.

“About the O’Driscoll?”

Finally their eyes met. Arthur had told him about their encounter, about the aggression, about Emily shooting the man. It was her first killing, Hosea was aware of that, and she was pretty shocked, so shocked that her mind had erased that memory for a couple of hours.

“I killed him” she whispered.

“Yes, you did.”

There was no point in telling her not to worry, it wouldn’t have had any effect.

“You killed him, and you did it for a good reason.”

She frowned at his words, but they also had the desired effect to calm her down.

“What would have happened if you hadn’t shot him?” he asked.

She dipped in her thoughts for a second.

“P-probably he would have hurt me.”

“He would have killed you, and Arthur right after. You saved his life.”

“Saved his life” she echoed in another whisper.

It wasn’t true of course, Arthur would have found a way to get out of that situation. Hosea had seen him fight against four men, so two O’Driscoll were nothing to him, but he needed to make Emily believe that what she had done was necessary, to let her accept it, and he had succeeded.

He smiled and stood up returning to his chair. She didn’t know he was a perfect liar and had believed him right away, which made him feel a little ashamed, but that was a lie for a good cause. She nodded a couple of times, lost in her thoughts, and then gave him a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Hosea” she murmured.

“I just tell the truth” he replied.

“I think I’ll go to Charles for the riding lesson” she said standing up.

“Oh, Charles is in town with Javier and Bill.”

“Really? Well, I guess our lesson is delayed then. I’ll go find something else to do.”

...

Emily found a corner in the kitchen to leave her lavender flowers to sundry and started wandering around camp to find something to do. Hosea’s words had calmed her. She wasn’t proud nor happy of what she had done, but thinking about it, she had done it in order to defend herself and Arthur’s life. Besides, that man was a criminal, part of the gang that had killed Sadie’s husband, he probably deserved to die.

What about Kieran then? She asked herself. Does he deserve to be tied there in that way? Emily shook her head. It seemed that the more she wanted to send those thoughts away, the more those thoughts came back to her. She had to distract herself.

She headed to her tent hoping that there she would have found a distraction. Maybe the girls could help her. Only when she got there she found a Mary-Beth, a Tilly and a Karen with long faces, and the air over them was heavy with boredom.

“What could we do?” asked Emily sitting next to them and assuming their same expression.

“We might find a job, if we had the chance to go to Valentine” said Karen.

The said chance soon arrived, when Arthur woke up and decided to bother poor Uncle, busy with his thinking. The four girls listened quietly to their conversation, with a giggling every now and then, and after the two men were done arguing, Karen made them all sign to follow her and she asked Arthur if they could go with him and Uncle.

“Can Miss Grimshaw spare you?”

The girls complained about his question and after an exchange of looks Arthur decided to bring them in that rather useless expedition, and in case they had found something… well at least he could call it a day. They quickly got on the wagon and took the road to Valentine.

“Ladies, sing us a song.”

Uncle’s request was soon accepted and the three girls started a little tune with a lyric full of double meaning to which Emily could only clap her hands following the rhythm. They had almost reached the train trails when a carriage pulled by two horses had an accident. Uncle used the lumbago excuse and the responsibility to bring the horse that had got loose back to the owner fell on Arthur.

From their following conversation, Emily understood it wasn’t in their style to help people in need, at least it wasn’t Arthur’s style, who affirmed he had robbed the man if it wasn’t for the presence of four fine girls like them, and it was at that moment that Emily wondered what kind of man Arthur was.

She knew so little about him and in that little time they had spent together he hadn’t appeared to her as generous as Charles, nor as kind as Hosea. Maybe he was hiding those parts of his personality, or maybe he just wasn’t like Emily had imagined him.

They leaded the wagon across that town that they knew so well now and stopped it right in front of the stable.

“Uncle, what are we doing?” asked Arthur jumping down the wagon.

“Well, we’re gonna do what any self-respecting maniac does: put the women to work.”

“I didn’t know you were such a gentleman, Uncle” laughed Emily following the three girls down the wagon and on the muddy street.

“We’ll start at the saloon, ladies” said Karen with a nod to Tilly and Mary-Beth.

“Oh no, not the saloon, please” whined Emily. She didn’t want to put a foot inside that awful place, the memory of what had happened still fresh in her mind.

“Don’t you worry, everything like that happens again, I’ll deal with the son of a bitch” said Tilly.

Emily smiled gratefully, but she didn’t want to go to the saloon anyway.

“What happened exactly?” asked Arthur, but Emily ignored him. She hadn’t told anybody about that pig she had met and how Charles and Javier had protected her, and she didn’t want to tell it now.

“Uncle, do you mind if I stay with you?” she asked.

“Not at all, my dear. We’ll just go to the general store for now. I have to get something there.”

“Okay ladies. Just pretend we’re in Paris” said Karen walking away with Tilly and Mary-Beth right after her. The latter turned around for a second and waved to Emily who made the same gesture to her.

Arthur and Uncle headed to the store exchanging puns and provocations and Emily followed them, listening quietly and laughing to herself. Once inside the store the owner recognized Emily and asked her about the book. She replied with a few words but she didn’t want to start a debate with a man who wouldn’t have understood the social impact a book like that had had.

Uncle took something to drink and eat while they waited for the girls. Arthur took something too, but when he aimed for the counter to pay Emily stood in his way.

“I’ll pay for you” she said taking the purchases from his hands and leaving them in front of the owner together with a chocolate bar she had taken for herself. “I still owe you for the clothes” she added when Arthur frowned at her.

“I had forgot. You could have said nothing and get away with it” he chuckled.

“It wouldn’t be right” she simply said.

Arthur shook his head and followed her outside. Uncle needed some more time to decide what to buy.

“So, what do we do?” she asked.

“I have no idea. Where did you get that money?”

“I worked” she replied biting her chocolate.

Arthur raised his eyebrows asking her to explain herself. Emily chuckled and with a nod of her head told him to follow her. She showed him the back of the apothecary and told him about what she and Javier had found out, all the setup with Bill, and the money they had gained.

“My Lord, you’re becoming a real outlaw, aren’t you?” he laughed in the end as they walked back to the main road.

“All I’ve been doing is stealing to some criminals and shooting another one, the same things policemen do everyday” she replied as Hosea’s words about the necessity of her actions came back to her mind.

“So, that’s how you see yourself? As a policemen?” asked Arthur ironically.

Emily laughed and turned to look at him, but something else caught her attention.

“Good morning, sheriff” she said stretching out an arm to greet the man under the porch.

“Oh, morning to you, Miss. How you doing?”

“Very well, thank you. We’re looking for work.”

The sheriff frowned, moving his eyes from her to Arthur. He was obviously considering her words.

“I may have something for your friend, if he’s interested in bounties.”

Emily and Arthur exchanged a look.

“Yeah, why not? So I can play the policeman too” he added in a murmur and Emily laughed again at his words. The two of them followed the sheriff inside.

“George, show the man the poster” he ordered to the deputy getting behind his desk and sitting down.

The deputy moved his cold skeptic eyes from Arthur to Emily and his face relaxed all at once.

“Oh, Miss. Good to see you again. Not some other bar fight I hope.”

“No, don’t worry. Just looking for some work with my friend.”

“This is your friend?” he asked and looking at Arthur he raised an eyebrow.

The difference between the two was abysmal: she was tiny, clean, with a kind expression and sweet eyes. He was big, dirty, tough and mean. Their ‘friendship’ was pretty suspicious.

Emily couldn’t see Arthur’s face because she was right behind him, but she was sure he had glanced at the deputy in a terrible way, because the man immediately looked away in embarrassment and walked towards the wall pointing at a poster.

“That’s the man. Benedict Allbright” he said.

“He’s being poisoning folks with his miracle cure from here to Annesburg.”

“A doctor?” asked Emily walking past Arthur to look at the paper. “It makes no sense. Doctors are good, they are supposed to help people.”

The deputy chuckled at all that innocence.

“Things are not always as they should be” he replied.

“Where can I find him?” asked Arthur taking the poster from the wall.

“North of here, straight by the gorge. That’s where they saw him last time” the sheriff informed him.

“You think you can bring him in? The pay is good, but we need him alive, though. I have to make sure the women he widowed get compensated before he swings.”

Emily looked at the poster and then exchanged a look with Arthur. He didn’t seem convinced.

“It’s fifty dollars to bring a murderer to justice. It’s a double reward from my point of view” she said with an encouraging smile.

Arthur snorted and shook his head: she truly had some strange ideas.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do” he said heading to the door.

“Thank you, sheriff, for giving my friend this chance” said Emily. “I guess we’ll see each other again soon” she added to the deputy.

“Miss” he replied with a nod of his head.

#rdr2 #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #tilly jackson #karen jones #mary-beth gaskill #hosea matthews

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cookieek · 4 years

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Chapter 13: In which trolls fly and flowers are picked

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Epilogue ao3 Wattpad

(Sorry for the long wait! School happened, hope the chapter is still nice though! :])

“So how about that curse little man, any attempts at breaking it yet?”

Edda looked up at Snurra from the potion she had started to work on after releasing Arthur from her arms, and so did Arthur, who was still, for some reason, sitting in her lap. She had tried not to think about him being there.

“The curse?” Arthur said, at first sounding oddly confused. “Oh right! Yeah, I’ve been at it, for a long while now... unsuccessfully...” he hunched over a little, before snapping up straight again “But, I think miss Edda might be able to break it.”

“Oh? How’s that curse breaking going then Miss magician?” Snurra asked, sounding a bit intrigued.

Edda shifted slightly on the log she was sitting on.

“Well, I’m still trying to figure out any weak points in the fairy’s magic I could exploit, but I guess it’s, going.” She scratched the back of her head, and explained the current plan of action they had.

Snurra nodded along and hummed a bit.

“Sounds like you still got quite the work ahead of you two.” She cocked her head to the side as she seemed to gaze along the road she was walking on. Edda found herself just a bit entranced in the way the sun shone on Snurra’s hair, but quickly snapped out of it. “Well, I wish you luck in you mission.” Snurra finally continued. “I would like to aid you, but magic was always my sisters strong suit, not mine.”

“Yeah my mom is great! Her cousin is this lady that hangs out in a lake and they learned a lot of magic together!” Nini butted in, her face gleaming with excitement.

Snurra laughed at her.

“That sjörå is my cousin too you know,” she shot a quick, amused, smile over her shoulder. “That’s why we’re planning to visit her after we see uncle Grävegrus, remember?”

“Wait.” Arthur said suddenly. “Trolls can do magic?! Is that why you said you where going to curse me?” He turned his head to look at Nini who looked like a dear in headlights.

“W-“

“Nini...” Snurra turned her head to Nini and chocked up en eyebrow. “Did you threaten to curse the little man?”

“...Maybe.” Nini answered, absentmindedly playing with her tail. “It was just a glow in the dark curse though...” she pouted “it wasn’t like it was going to kill him.”

“Oh!” Snurra said in a happy tone, “Then I guess sis would be happy to hear about this little incident.”

“No don’t!” Nini dramatically fell too her knees. Edda flinched a bit at it as doing that on a pile of logs did not look very comfortable. “She would lecture me for days!!! And force me to eat the same oatmeal that grandpa eats, that you know tastes boring and yucky!”

“I have no sympathy for you, small prisoner,” Snurra snickered.

Edda looked from the child, to her aunt, and then to Arthur, who looked just as lost for words as her.

“I mean,” Edda started, keeping her eye on Arthur as she spoke. “It’s not like the curse would have worked in the first place, since both of us are wearing protection charms...”

“So no harm, no foul.” Arthur finished, seemingly have caught on what she was hinting at and agreeing with it. “M’lady here was already protecting me from any extra curses going my way.” He gestured broadly with his hand and shot Edda one of his stupid grins, making her snort at him.

“Wait! What do you mean ‘protective charm’?” Nini said shooting up from her knees, seemingly forgetting about what she was doing a second prior, and furrowing her brows in confusion. “And why would it stop me from cursing that tattle tail?!” She pointed at Arthur.

“Oh,” said Snurra, raising her eyebrow a bit. “I guess your mom hasn’t told you about those yet. They’re small charms that protects humans from getting harmed by magical creatures.”

“No small charm can stop me! My mom is great at magic and so am I!” Nini turned towards Arthur and raised her hand.

The hand started to glow.

And then she was forcefully ejected out of the cart, landing with a distant thud on the fields of grass that was surrounding the road.

The cart stopped as everyone turned to look over where Nini had been thrown, and after a beat of silence, Snurra burst into roaring laughter.

She dropped the reigns and leaned against the cart as she wheezed.

“Did you see how she flew!?” She almost started coughing from her laughter. “Incredible!”

The absolute mortified feeling that had filled Edda as Nini had launched off, was replaced by confusion as she looked at Snurra doubling over in laughter. Wasn’t she at all angry that her niece had been blasted off?

She voiced her confusion, making Snurra look up at her, and shake her head, letting out a few more strings of laughter as she did.

“Don’t worry Miss magician, that girl can handle getting thrown a few yards just fine. One of her favorite things to do as a toddler was to get a giant to chuck her over a whole town so she could look down at it from above, and move really fast.” She waved dismissingly with her hand and shot her a bright grin.

“As a toddler?!” Arthur asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, she called it ‘up fwast’,” Snurra snickered, straightened up her back and let out a loud sigh. “Either way, I better go get her before she realises that she can make a run for it into the grass. Keep a look on the cart while I’m gone.”

And so she walked off towards Nini, quickly picking up her pace as Nini’s distant figure started moving. Leaving Edda and Arthur alone in the cart.

There was a small silence as Edda looked down on Arthur in her lap, who looked back at her with a expression showing that he was still thinking about toddler Nini being thrown by a giant. Strangely enough something about his expression seemed to make her stomach clench just a little bit. She ignored it.

“...So, how are you liking the ride so far? Not every day you get to catch a ride with a troll.” She said, trying her best to start up a conversation.

Arthur’s head shot up to look at her and after a few seconds of just looking at her he gave her a small grin.

“It’s different!” He said “But not in a bad way!” He held his hands up defensively.

She laughed slightly.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” From what she had gathered about him so far it did seem that getting a ride from a magical creature, of which he before had admitted to have fought with, was something entirely new to him. She was happy that he at least seemed to be taking in the experience well enough. “I’ve never done this as well, it’s a new experience for both of us.”

“So getting rides from trolls isn’t something usual around here?” He asked, looking just a bit surprised.

“I mean, maybe it is,” she shrugged. “I’ve spend most of my time staying put at home. I’ve only really traveled like once before about, two years ago.” After she settled down by the town she had found herself really liking, she only really walked far enough needed to pick herbs, which usually ended up being not to far.

“Why did you travel back then?” He asked, curiosity shining in his sweet eyes, as he leaned against her just a bit, moving his legs so they were on each side of her.

“Oh.” She took a pause to think of how she could explain it without revealing anything. “I guess I just wanted to see the rest of the kingdom.” She shrugged. “Also...” she started, unsure of she really should say anything more. “I kinda wanted get my first taste of independence, which I kinda got from travelling. Just me and my surroundings.”

“Wait! You traveled alone?” Surprise and worry shot through his eyes.

“I didn’t exactly have anyone to travel with at the time.” She said with a shrug. Sort of hard to have anyone to travel with when you were trying to distance yourself from every person you ever knew.

“But,” He started. “It’s dangerous to travel alone, right?”

“I didn’t see that stop you, mr adventurer.” She snarked playfully, lightly pressing her index finger against the tip of his nose. She couldn’t help but laugh a little at the surprised look on his face as she did so. “Besides,” she lifted her finger away from his nose, barely noticing him lifting his hand up to his face as she did. “I did already know how to act in order to stay safe out here, so I was hardly rushing out unprepared.”

“But, what about that water monster?” Arthur leaned towards her in urgency. “I was barley able to save you back there. If you had been there alone then-“

“I wouldn’t have gone close to the moving water in the first place, and I didn’t.” She put her hand on his cheek this time, focusing her gaze on his eyebrows, as she found it strangely hard to look into his big shiny eyes without feeling that tightness in her chest again. “Going to flowing water alone is generally a bad idea, and I knew that two years ago as well. The only reason I went to the river yesterday is because you where there with me.”

“...Oh.” He uttered softly, and in the corner of her eye she could see the happy crinkle around his eyes.

Her heartbeat started increasing again. Oh no.

“Also, it was two years ago and I’m still here in the flesh, so don’t be such a worry wart.” She grinned, moving her hand to softly push against his shoulder, hoping that her cheeks hadn’t yet gotten any visible colour.

Arthur laughed softly.

“Your right m’lady, what’s important is that your safe now.” He smiled brightly at her. “A bit pointless of me to worry about that whole thing in the first place.” He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed.

Edda laughed with him, though half of it was in an attempt to distract herself from her still steadily increasing heartbeat. She closed her eyes in laughter, only to be reminded by his physical presence even more as the weight on her lap immediately increased.

“Oh, I’m sorry M’lady.”

Edda snapped her eyes opened again as Arthur started shifting his weight on her lap, he looked up at her with a slightly apologetic look.

He said something to her that she couldn’t register, as her mind was stuck, on the feeling of his breath just grazing her face and his body leaning against hers. Why was she stuck on this? She had hugged the man just a few minutes ago, which, yes, had made her slightly tingly, but nothing like how she felt now.

Not only was these weird emotions horrid to experience, but they also just had to be so weirdly inconsistent to!!!

“Edda? Are you ok?” Arthur’s words finally reached her.

Had she just been staring into space for a few seconds? Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She said, grinning what she hoped was a normal looking grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

Arthur looked slightly sceptical, but then he shrugged and smiled back at her.

“If you say so Edda.”

And so they just sat there for a few minutes, Eddas heartbeat slowly and steadily slowing down as she finished the potion she had been working on.

As she sealed the bottle, and put it back into her bag, she looked up towards where Snurra had gone to fetch Nini, but it didn’t seem like she and Nini was coming back to them anytime soon.

“Man it’s sure is taking them a while huh?”

Arthur seemed to shift in her lap, probably to look where she was looking.

“Huh, yeah. You think-“ he cut himself of mid sentence, making Edda look down at him as he squinted his eyes. “Is that? The little troll lass’s pouch?”

He pointed at the grass by the roadside, whereupon, like he said, Nini’s small pouch, in which she had stored the glass pearls she had shown them before, laid. A few of the precious pearls had rolled out of the pouch onto the grass.

“Looks like it. It must have fell off when she was thrown of the cart.” Edda said, still feeling just a bit guilty over that. “I should probably pick that up, it would be a shame if she lost all those-“

“There’s no need for that M’lady!” Arthur said as he scrambled out of her lap to stand up besides her. “I’ll retrieve the little bag!” He gestured towards his chest proudly, grinning his, at this point, signature stupid grin at her.

“Uh, alright then?” She said, a little confused, but still willing to roll with his strange little whims.

His smile widened and he immediately jumped out of the cart towards the pouch.

“Make sure you pick up the ones that fell out of the bag as well,” she said as she started looking through her bag for her notebook, remembering that she still had things she wanted to do with the explosion spells she had been working on yesterday evening.

“I will!” Arthur answered.

There was a short beat of silence as Edda flipped through her notebook for the correct page, the spells she had done yesterday was fully functional ones, or so she hoped, she had yet to try them out. They would need to have the channeling spells added too them to be able to be safely tested after all. That was probably the next step she would have to take with them, she thought to herself as her hand grazed over the runes for the channeling spell that she had written down by the explosion spell.

“Hey, Edda?” Arthur’s voice shook her out of her thoughts. “The inside of a bag usually don’t glow right?”

She looked over at Arthur, who has holding up the pouch for her to see that, yes, the inside of the bag did appear to have a faint glow. Returning the notebook to her bag, she leaned over the edge of the cart.

“Maybe she enchanted it? She did say she was practicing magic.” Edda said, admittedly pretty intrigued by the pouch, but knowing better to not get caught ogling an item that belonged to a magical creature. “Either way, you should probably still bring it back up here.”

“Of course,” Arthur said with a small laugh, properly closing the pouch as he did. “Should i pick some plants for you while I’m already down here?”

“Oh, sure! But only of you’re ok with it.” She felt somewhat guilty over the idea of forcing him to do something like that. It was stupid since he had been the one to bring it up in the first place, but that didn’t stop the feeling from being there.

“It would be my pleasure, my fair lady.” He said with a stupid grin and a slight bow.

She snickered a bit, pushing down the feeling of warmth in her chest.

“If you say so,” she leaned forward to softy tap his nose again. “My mighty Knight.”

His eyes seemed to shine even brighter as he grinned wider.

That strange feeling blossomed up again, so she adverted her eyes from his and started looking for any useful plants that he could pick up.

“Oh! There’s some John’s wort over there!” She pointed at the yellow flower that she just spotted.

“On it!” Arthur declared, rushing up to the plant and moving to pick it up.

“Wait!” She shouted, as she went to pull out her knife and held it out to him by the blade. “Use this to remove it!”

“Oh, right.” He said, reaching up to, in an oddly gentle way, accept the knife from her. She tried to ignore how his fingers softy grazed hers as he did.

Then he quickly started to amass a small bundle of plants as he eagerly picked up whatever plant Edda would point out. There was a few Frog leaves, some John’s wort, one blood root that was growing oddly close to the road and even a Northern bedstraw.

Edda wasn’t the only one looking around, Arthur would occasionally point out a flower he recognised or ask if a flower he didn’t recognise was useful. Which she would happily talk to him about.

“Does that one do anything?” He said, gesturing at a small peach coloured flower that stood a bit further in the grass.

She had to squint a bit to properly make the flower out, but then she recognised it.

“Oh yeah! That’s a Frog's-stomach!” She had to stop and laugh slightly at the look of surprise and shock that crossed over Arthur’s face as he heard the name. “It’s good at soothing burns.”

“...Why would it be called Frog’s-stomach if that’s what it does?” He looked at her with a pained and confused expression.

“If you think that’s weird, it’s also used for ‘love divination’, which I like to think makes the name, infinitely more odder... and fantastic.” She snickered, leaning against the edge of the cart.

“Love divination?” He said, his face lighting up in... Wonder?

“Uhh, yeah.” She straightened up a little. “You’re supposed to take two of them and hang them over the bed while you sleep. If when you wake up the two flowers are turned towards each other, then your love is reciprocated, but if they are turned away from each other, then it’s not.”

“Sound like I can’t do it with only one of them then...” he muttered as he looked at the flower, making Edda slightly confused, what was he talking about? He turned his head to look at her again.“Have you ever tried it before Edda?”

“Nah,” she said, somewhat uncomfortable “Never been in love, so I’ve never seen a reason to use it like that. I’ve just used it for burns.”

“Oh...” he said, in an odd, conflicted, tone that she couldn’t quite place.

Edda felt a oncoming uncomfortable silence and acted quickly.

“Either way you can pick it-“”Do you want me to pick it-“

They both quickly shut up, realising that they had spoken over each other. She shot him an awkward smile as she did a “go ahead” gesture, he responded with a nod and a similarly awkward smile.

She watched as he carefully, but somewhat clumsily, removed the flower from the ground. Moving as if he was scared of tarnishing the knife he was holding. Even as she watched him doing something so mundane, she still felt the odd warm feeling in her chest, it somehow never having left the entire time as she had happily bantered with him over the flowers.

“I think that’s enough plants for now.” she said, as he added the Frog’s-stomach to the bundle. “Thanks for taking the time to pick some, by the way, I was a bit worried about missing out on them since we’re not, you know, traveling on foot right now.”

“I thought so.” Arthur said with a soft smile, “You always seemed so excited about these plants, so it would have been a damn shame if you were robbed of the opportunity to pick them this time.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite that dramatically,” she said, snickering at his words. Still, his thoughtfulness was, touching. He really was quite the sweetheart.

He laughed lightly with her and then walked up to the cart to dramatically present the plants to her, almost like a bouquet.

“Your herbs, M’lady.”

A ridiculous sweetheart, she thought to herself as she accepted the plants from his hand, once again trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest as his knuckles ran against her palm when he released the plants to her.

“Again, thanks, but,” she smiled at him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

His strange half lidded look was replaced by one of realisation.

“Oh, right!” He smiled sheepishly at her, handling over both the bag and her knife.

She couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as she took the items. The bag was safely put on the spot that Nini had previously claimed for herself, and she’d managed to not awkwardly touch his fingers as she took he knife back. She fumbled with trying to sheath the knife with one hand, not yet having put away the plants.

She heard a small grunt and the sound of the cart creaking as she finally got the knife in it’s place, and turned to see Arthur suddenly sitting just a few inches away from her again. She jumped a bit in surprise.

“Oh! Sorry Edda, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“It’s fine!” She waved her hands at him as she regained her bearings. “I see that you got back up by yourself, I was thinking that I was going to help you up.”

“Oh.” He said, his eyes widening, “I can jump back down again if you want.” He looked at the edge of the cart and then at her.

“You don’t need to do that.” She laughed and nudged his shoulder with her fist.

They spent a little while sorting and putting the plants in her bag, the frogleaves going into the container with all the rest frogleaves and the John’s worths being bound together with the other John’s worths and so on. It was just as Arthur closed the frogleaf bottle one final time and handed it over to her as the sound of grass crunching reached their ears.

They both looked up to see Snurra just stepping out of the grass, holding a sour looking Nini by the hand.

“-I’m sure we can get you some new ones if we can’t find them.” Snurra said to Nini.

“But I wan’t my old ones back, they’re special!” Nini whined, throwing her gaze all over the grass as if looking for something.

Oh right.

Edda, putting the frogleaf bottle back into her bag, was just about to say something before Arthur moved to snatch up the purse from where she had laid it on the cart.

“Hey little miss! You dropped this before!” He held up the purse so she could see it.

Nini gasped, rushed towards the cart and with an impressive jump got herself up in front of Arthur, who stumbled back in surprise.

“Where did you find it? I looked all over the field but I couldn’t see it anywhere?” Her eyes shone in excited happiness as she made grabby hands at the pouch.

“You had dropped it just by the side of the road, so Arthur spotted it and went to pick it up.” Edda explained, feeling the happiness Nini was beaming out infect her.

“Really!!!???” Nini bounced in place.

“Yeah,” Arthur chuckled pleasantly, dropping the pouch into Nini’s waiting hands. “Some of the pearls had fallen out, but I’m pretty certain I managed to pic em all up.”

“Oh! Let me check.” She almost tore open the bag and then after poking around in it for a few seconds, her face broke out into the biggest grin Edda had ever seen. “They’re all there!”

“Good to hea-“ Arthur was cut off as he was pulled into a bear hug by Nini.

“Thank you mister Tattle tale! Maybe the crone lady was right about you!” She said, lifting him off the ground.

“No problem,” Arthur squeaked, but then his eyebrows furrowed, “Right about what? Also don’t call h-“

“You are good!” She said, giving him a final squeeze before dropping him back down on the cart.

“Oh,” He said, wobbling a little bit, prompting Edda to move to steady him by his shoulder. His hand immediately shot up to touch hers, his mouth formed into a dumbfounded ‘o’. “Thank you?”

“No prob!” Nini grinned a toothy grin before turning around and plopping down on her designated spot on the cart, all her interest returning back to the pearls.

Arthur turned to Edda and his shining eyes met hers, his shocked face morphing into a wide grin. Making her heart almost jump out of her chest at the sight.

“Well,” Snurra clapped her hands together loudly, startling Edda, just a bit. “Now that that’s all over, how about we continue forward? The day’s still young, but I did say we would be there around midday.”

And so the ride finally started up again, with Arthur sitting himself down by Edda, eventually starting to tell some of his adventuring tales to fill the silence. Edda listened to him as she returned to her rune spells, enjoying the pleasant sound of his voice and starting to carve the channeling spell into the sticks she had carved the explosion spells on before.

“-so I grabbed the evil wizards staff out of his hands and snapped it in half, breaking the curse he had set on the land in the process.” He said, sounding pretty proud of himself.

“What! Didn’t you say it was an oak staff or something!” Nini exclaimed, having become enraptured by Arthur’s stories. “That’s hard for humans to break with their bare hands, right aunty?”

“Well, I’m sure there are some humans capable of doing something like that.” Snurra said with a small chuckle. “Remember that story the skogsrå of Tråtappa woods told of the human she met that could bend steel with their bare hands?”

“Ohhhhh right.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed, his eyes catching Eddas as she glanced up from her work for a moment. He grinned one of his dumb grins at her and flexed his arm muscles. “These bad boys are fully capable of breaking evil objects, as well as for protecting lovely, and smart, maidens.”

Edda just breathed heavily trough her nose at him before returning her eyes to her carving. He sure was fond of saying stuff like that, she guessed it was a cultural thing she hadn’t quite grasped, it wasn’t like he was actually flirting with her or anything.

“...You’re weird.” Nini bluntly stated, prompting some stuttering from Arthur, and pleasant laughter from Snurra. And Edda, she was just restraining herself, opting to snicker a bit into her fist. Nini wasn’t exactly wrong in her assessment.

“H-hey, didn’t you just say I was good a few minutes ago?” Arthur sputtered out.

“Yeah? You can be both. And you are both.” Nini said with a tone of faux authority.

Arthur attempted to say something to that but quickly seemed to admit defeat. Looking up from her work again, Edda saw him crossing his arms while looking lost thought. She couldn’t help snicker a little at him again, but then she moved out her hand to pat his shoulder in support.

“Nothing wrong with being a bit weird.” She said, immediately feeling warmth in her face as he looked up at her with his big shiny eyes. She turned her gaze back to her work in a hurry, but she wasn’t quick enough to miss the sweet smile he gave her.

“So, what happened next!?” Nini shouted impatiently.

“Huh?” Arthur said in a confused voice, before he seemed to remember what he had been talking about before. “Oh right! Uh... So after I broke the staff, with my bare hands, and the curse from the land was lifted, we went to make sure the princess was unharmed...”

Edda zoned out, she was not in a mood to hear about princesses at the moment, the memory of yesterday still fresh in her mind. She didn’t like to think about him wanting to ‘save’ Harriet.

She shook her head and tried to focus back on her carving. One problem at the time, just make sure that he doesn’t find out and deal with the possible problems of him trying to find her when it comes up.

The final rune came out a little bit crooked, but Edda was pretty sure it would still work just fine, now she just had to carve the channeling spell on something else that didn’t have an explosion spell on it.

Ah, shit, she hadn’t brought any uncarved sticks with her... Maybe she had something else on her that she could carve it on? She rummaged in her bag, the pleasant sound of Arthur talking still somewhat reaching her ears, but not enough for her to really hear what he was saying. Her rummaging was fruitless and she found herself feeling slightly guilty for not listening to what Arthur was talking about, he always seemed to pay attention to what she was talking about after all...

Edda sighed as she dropped the enchanted sticks back into her bag, and shook her head in an attempt to zone back in to the present, she could probably figure out the final part of the channeling spell later, maybe she could find something of use in Bergeleva.

“-and so I carried the princess back to her family, safe and sound.” Arthur concluded, looking quite proud of himself.

Edda had to physically stop herself from flinching, man hearing that out of, whatever, the context for it was, did not work well with the awful twisting feeling that was already stewing in her body. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t talking about her, and that she was going to be, just, fine so long she doesn’t let anything slip. She looked away from him and tried to steady her breaths.

A warm hand was on her arm.

“Miss Edda, are you feeling alright?” Arthur said, his voice thick with concern.

Looking at him, she couldn’t help but feel some sort of tightening I her chest, his sweet worry for her well being, his shiny wonderful eyes... Warmth spreading from where he was touching her on the arm...

He tilted his head to the side.

Oh no, why was her hearth pounding. Wait, she was staring, why was she staring!? He asked her a question, she needed to answer it!

She tore her gaze away from him and looked to the road.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, just, remembered, a bad memory.” She staggered through the sentence.

“Hey,” Snurra suddenly spoke up, seemingly stopping Arthur from just saying something. “Speaking of princesses, there sure is a lot of fuzz about princess Harriet nowadays.”

Oh no.

Arthur blinked a few times at the mention of the missing princess, especially at how nonchalantly it had been brought up, not to mention this was the first time in a while she was referred to as something else besides “the princess” or “the missing princess”. That did not however distract him from noticing the way Edda seemed to tense up at the mention of her.

“Yeah,” Nini flopped back against the logs, “That’s why there’s so many new people around right? Mom said that they where looking for her right?” There was a very short pause of a few seconds. “Is that why you are here Mister?” She looked at Arthur.

“Oh, yeah.” Arthur said, only half of his attention on the two others, as he gently rubbed Edda’s arms, who was clearly uncomfortable, though it seemed like she was trying to hide it by giving him a strained smile as he tried to comfort her.

“You know,” Snurra started, “I’m pretty sure the royal family hasn’t gotten involved in the search yet, isn’t that sort of strange? Couldn’t they just send out one of those metal animals the prince had been making to find her?”

Arthur had to do a double take, his hand movement stopping, the prince’s what now?

“Like Prince Gustav would ever care enough about her to use them.” Edda scoffed.

Arthur looked at her in surprise, did she really think so little about royalty that she thought the prince didn’t care about his own sister? He voiced his confusion to her.

Snurra laughed lightly.

“The little mans got a point, that’s quite the bold accusation to level on the prince, don’t you think?”

“Hey, look!” Edda sputtered, looking just a bit unsure. “That family didn’t say shit about her being away from the castle until everyone started making a big deal about it. That sounds a lot like them not caring about her.” She turned to Arthur. “You talked about it when we met remember?”

He nodded, he had said that. And it was still a thing he found to be somewhat strange, two years was a pretty long time for a princess to be gone without a single word. Though now when he thought about it it was also pretty odd that it took so long for the people outside of the royal family to notice the absence of a princess.

He didn’t think about that more however as he noticed Edda starting to pull her legs into herself, hugging them, much like she had done that morning. He scooted himself a bit closer to her, moving so both his hands was on her arm.

“Maybe she didn’t want to be found,” Nini pondered out loud, ”maybe she thought it was boring to be a princess.”

“Boring?” Arthur said a bit caught off guard, looking over at Nini, “why would she think it was boring?” Sure, it was a lot of work and occasionally a lot of pressure and maybe even sometimes it involved having some pretty dull meetings, but being royalty was in his experience far from boring.

“You can’t run in mud and get dirty when you’re a princess.” Nini said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wha...” Arthur started, but stopped as Edda bursted out in near to cackling laughter, throwing her head back with her hand on her face.

“S-Sorry” she croaked out in between her wheezing, her lips spread out in a happy grin as she tried to contain herself. “It’s just-“ She let out a small belt of laughter again. “Oh man, I’m tearing up.”

Arthur didn’t exactly get why she was laughing so hard, but that didn’t matter. Her squinted eyes shone in the light, as she shakily tried to dry the tears for her eyes with the back of her hand, and as her gaze meet his he could feel his heart beating faster. She looked downright divine. He barely noticed how his arms went slack at the sight.

Edda leaned onto Arthur, putting her, now free, arm over his shoulders. Taking deep breathes, her laughter slowly subsided.

“Oh,” she breathed out “I’m sorry, that got way out of hand.” She shook her head, her dark brown locks shining in the sunlight, and looked up towards Nini, shooting her a finger gun. “Absolutely love your priorities though.”

“Whoa,” Nini said in awe. “You even laugh like a crone.”

What?

“Hmm, yeah, I can definitely hear it.” Snurra hummed In agreement.

“She doesn’t sound like a witch!” He said, tearing his gaze away from Edda to look at Nini.

“Come on! That was almost a perfect witch laugh!” Nini said, putting her first against her sides defiantly.

“Her sounding ‘almost’ like a witch doesn’t mean she actually so-“ he cut himself off as he felt Edda remove the arm she had over his shoulder, moving up from him as she did, and put her hand on his head, petting him.

“Nah, she’s got a point, it does sort of sound like a witch cackle.” Edda grinned. “Plus, hardly the first time I’ve gotten that, sort of surprised that you’ve yet to point it out to be honest.”

“I wouldn’t say that to you!” He said, frankly shocked that she even thought that. “Your laugh is, unique, but I think it’s wonderful.”

Edda’s grin softened, her hand moving from the top of his head to his cheek.

“I wouldn’t have held anything against you if you said I sounded like a witch, but,” the side of her lips twitched a bit in silent laughter. “Thank you for the flattery I guess.”

Her rough yet soft hand moved gently against his cheek, and he couldn’t help leaning into it, embracing the affection she was giving him.

“Anytime, M’lady.” He managed to mumble out.

The moment lasted only for a few seconds, Nini seemingly having become bored of seeing them just gaze at each other, which honestly, he probably couldn’t be to mad about. She was a child after all, and there was plenty of children that he had met before that couldn’t care less about romance.

“Sooooo, What was you doing with the knife and sticks before?” She asked Edda.

“Oh, I was just making some spells I saw in a book a while back,” she said, moving her hand away from his cheek. “It’s nothing big really just a thing I’m messing around with for fun.”

“Some spells?” Both he and Nini said in unison. He had assumed she had been doing something magical, but he had sort of thought it was some other sort of charm or something like that, not a spell.

“Yeah,” she snapped her fingers and gasped slightly. “Maybe sort of like those talismans you mentioned your friend used!”

“Oh?” He said, he wasn’t sure how accurate that comparison was, but he trusted her that it made sense.

“Can I see?” Nini asked curiously.

“Sure!” Edda started digging trough her bag. “Oh, for the love of, I just put them in here.” She mumbled under her breath as her digging intensified.

As she dug she lifted a few things up from the bag, maybe in hopes of getting a better view of the inside of it. As she did so Nini suddenly gasped.

“Is that Red Water Lilly?!!!” She scooted up to stare in awe at the, strangely still somewhat fresh looking, flower.

“Huh? Oh yeah it is.” Edda grinned. “Cool right?”

“Cool?” Arthur asked, it was no doubt a pretty looking flower, but cool wasn’t exactly the word he would use to describe it. Plus there was something, off, about it. Maybe because of how it had just appeared on his sword when he had swung at that water creature.

“Yeah! Cool!” Edda turned to Arthur, “You know the story behind this flower? They say that Näcken once was in love with a young woman, but she refused to be with him, so he took a knife and killed her. And it was her blood that turned Lilies like this one red.” She held the flower up to the sky, studying it.

The story did nothing but turn Arthur’s stomach, if he couldn’t hate that water creature more, and for such a dark and horrible story to be behind such a beautiful flower...

“Yeah! And they’re super hard to get too! Because that meanie head keeps hogging them all to himself!” Nini said with a huff.

“They sure are,” Snurra said, “I once tried to get some for my fiancée, nearly had to fight to the death with him in order to get one.” She snickered a bit. “You could say it was worth it though, not only for the look on her face when I gave it to her, but also considering she then could use it as a bartering tool for when one of her friends almost drowned.”

Oh? Fighting for a flower that your loved one wishes to have? Arthur could definitely respect that.

“I remember that!” Nini said excitedly, and then turned back to Edda. “So how did you get it!?”

“I think Arthur could explain it better than me,” Edda said my her lips stretched out into a crooked smile as she returned the flower into the bag, seemingly to continue digging trough it. “Considering my eyes were closed as it all happened.

Arthur happily explained how it happened to an enraptured Nini, who seemed very excited about him trying to swipe at the creature with his sword.

“So cool!” She said, shaking her first in front of her.

He couldn’t help feeling his chest swell with pride, just a little bit, at the sight. Remembering the praise he had gotten from Edda about it before.

Then the conversation moved on as Edda finally found the sticks she had been digging after, leading to her explaining how they worked. Nini happily butting in with ideas for how she could continue with her work on them.

“Why not carve the spell into the non metal part of your dagger? It is wood?”

Edda cocked her head to the side in though, a small smile forming on her face.

“It is wood...”

“Alright, we have arrived to our destination!” Snurra announced before anything more on the topic could be said, and she was right. In front of them was the opening to a bustling town, with a sign in front of it reading “Bergeleva”.

“Oh! Well I guess it’s here we part ways.” Edda said, bagging her things and starting to move to the edge of the cart to climb down. “Thank you for the ride!”

“Yes! Thank you miss Snurra!” Arthur said before he started rushing to get off the cart before Edda, not wanting to miss his chance to help her down.

“The pleasure has been all mine,” Snurra said with a laugh. “Hey Nini wasn’t there something you wanted to do?”

Arthur offered his arms up to Edda as she moved to climb down.

“You don’t have to do that,” she smiled over her shoulder at him as she heaved her body over the edge. “I don’t wanna dirty your hands with my shoes.” He felt a little disappointed as she dropped down beside him, but that disappointment swiftly disappeared as she smiled down at him and brushed his hair with her hand.

“Thanks for the offer though.”

Arthur sighed and moved to kiss her hand once more, but was interrupted by Nini running up to the two of them.

“I got you something! As thanks!” She said.

Edda raised and eyebrow.

“As thanks for what?”

“For hanging out with me. And making it less boring! Snurra is sooooooo boring all the time, but you two being there made it much more fun!” She grinned at them, then she deflated a bit. “Also, I was kinda mean to you Mister, so...” She held her hand out towards him, one of her glass pearls resting on it, it was blue and was on a thin strip of leather, making it sort of like a necklace. “Thank you... and sorry.”

Arthur hesitated for a second, looking to Edda for what he should do, she simply gestured for him to take it. So he did.

“Thank you, Little Miss Nini.” He said, bowing, just in case.

“I wanna help you with the curse, but I can only do one spell good yet.” She said sheepishly.

“Ah, that’s fine,” he smiled at the child, “I’m sure Miss Edda will have it fixed soon enough.” Be it through her knowledge of magic or... another way.

“Yeah! That’s why I got this!” She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out a fistful of hair, which she then presented to Edda. “I got this from my brush! You can make magic with troll hair right!”

Wait, why was she keeping old hair from her hairbrush in her pocket?

Arthur glanced up to Edda, only to see a look of awe and wonder spread across her face.

“I- I can.” She said, slowly lifting her hand up. “Is- can I really take this? Is that ok?”

“Sure!” Nini said with a grin holding up the hair-bunch to Eddas shaking hand. “Snurra said it was fine if I gave this away!”

Edda and Arthur looked up to Snurra, who just gave them a thumbs up.

Edda accepted the troll hair with a broad excited grin on her face, the look of wonder never leaving her eyes. Arthur once again found himself transfixed.

“Thank you Nini!”

If this was how she reacted to some old troll hair, then he wondered how she would react if he got her something off a dragon, considering how rare they apparently were around here...

Yeah, he was definitely going to get her something off a dragon when he returned to his princely form.

Maybe some teeth. She seemed like someone who would like some teeth.

#red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #fanfiction #fanfic #wayward #Edda

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salacious-mlm-snowbird · 4 years

Text

Rage and Spite

Kieran Duffy x Male!Reader

Rating: SFW, tags: murdèr, torturé and fluff, word count: 2036

A/N: this was requested by @agaycowboi and btw I’m so sorry it took this long, I was being trained by my manager at my new job plus I was behind in school so apologies for that!! Otherwise enjoy :)

You were furious, seething with fuckin’ rage, tonight you wanted to treat Kieran to a couple of drinks in Rhodes as a present for being accepted into the gang. You two are in the saloon drinking and having a fun time when you went to the bar to get more drinks, but when you turned around you saw a sight you thought you’d never have the displeasure of seeing in a lifetime.

Kieran Duffy had his scrawny arms wrapped around the waist of a fuckin’ harlot who works in the saloon as a public ledger, he was kissing her in a way he’s only ever kissed you, so much passion was hidden behind the drunk blush across his cheeks. You dropped the bottle of whiskey to the floor and stomped over to him before grabbing the woman by the hair, pulling her off of Kieran, “What the hell?!” she shouted as you shoved her to the floor. “W-Wait, Y/n! I didn’t mean it!” Kieran squeaks as you grab him by the collar of his blue shirt, you reared your fist back and launched it at his cheek, pain exploded in the side of Kieran’s face as he fell to the ground.

You huff and walk out of the saloon with a growl, Kieran tried calling after you but you didn’t listen as you climbed onto your horse before you raced out of Rhodes with no destination in mind, how could he do that to you? You were his goddamn lover! You felt tears threaten to spill but you only frowned and wiped them away before they could fall. It felt like a couple hours before you pulled off the road and trotted through the grass for a moment before pulling on the reigns to make your horse come to a halt.

“Good job, darlin’, I know I pushed you a little too hard. Sorry about that.” You said to your horse, patting the side of the neck of your mount as an apology and appreciation, pulling out a carrot you lean over and present it to the large animal, s/he takes it with a snort and gobbled up the carrot with a soft chuff of happiness. You dismount your darling horse with a sigh before grabbing your bedroll, placing it a couple feet from the big horse, you then begin to gather loose dry brush along with some twigs and sticks from the surrounding woody area.

Satisfied with the amount you had gathered, you go back towards your makeshift camp and start to try and set up a small fire; it took you a couple of tries but you got it on the fourth attempt of lighting the damn thing and keeping it lit. You didn’t even realize that it had been hours since you ran away from Rhodes, here you sat in front of a small fire while you hugged your knees, soft whimpers escape your lips as tears fell down your face. Everyone treated Kieran like absolute shit, in the beginning, even you but that soon changed when you saw that he was innocent and that he didn’t know a damn thing about Colm and his boys.

Kieran warmed up to you quickly and he soon became attached to you, leaving you poems and pressed flowers on your bedroll every couple of nights. Unfortunately, you had to hide the presents from everyone, so you kept them in your leather journal for safekeeping and such, since Kieran began to gift you things of that nature you felt you had to give him something in return the only way you knew how.

You started by leaving pretty bird feathers in the strap on his hat, then you started gifting him bigger things like raccoon skulls and muskrat skins before giving him a bearskin at some point. The items you had scavenged and hunted were a lot harder to hide but the only thing the others did was look at you two weirdly, given your ruthless reputation in the gang they left you guys alone for the most part.

You were so busy sifting through pleasant memories, you never heard the footsteps sneaking up on you, eyes widening in shock when a hand clamped over your mouth and the smooth barrel of a gun pressing against your temple. You reluctantly complied with the hands of the men who had captured you as they roughly tied your hands behind your back, you growled softly when the sight of agent Ross and agent Milton came into your view.

“Surprised to see you without your rut mate, Mr. L/n. A man of your caliber should be more aware of his surroundings seeing as we just found you on our way to your camp. We thought maybe it would be better and more effective to capture a high ranking member like yourself and use you as our informant instead of massacring your whole gang. If you’re willing to participate, if not, we’ll just have to kill you and your friends anyway.” Agent Milton said with a smirk, you growl against the firm hand that held your mouth.

Agent Milton laughs before using the butt of his revolver to knock you out, you fell limp against Agent Ross but only for a moment as they let you fall onto your face so that they could tie your ankles together as well. Agent Ross holstered his gun and slung you over his shoulder before settling you on his horse’s rump, the group of Pinkertons mounted up and left your horse alone as they rode away, your mount not really knowing what to do so s/he just began trotting towards home.

When you woke up, you were tied to a chair with your shirt and guns missing, a litany of scratches and bruises cascades all across your back, arms, chest, and stomach. No doubt even more was below the belt, luckily no Pinkerton decided to have a look for themselves. You were slumped over in the chair, mumbling incoherently to yourself, blood and spit dripped from your mouth after numerous fists previously landed harshly on your face as a way to try and pry information from you.

“Just cooperate with us, Y/n. you’ll then be set free, well, under certain conditions.” Agent Milton said as his hand glides over various tools of torture, “Fuck… you.” You manage to growl as you lift your head to glare daggers into the back of his head, he smirked to himself before he grabbed a knife and turned toward you. Milton wordlessly steps forward and slashed at your chest with the knife, blood spilled freely from the wide laceration, your vocal cords bled a little as you screamed in pain while Milton continued to carve into your chest until the word, ‘R A T’ was legible.

“You’re a pathetic little rat, Y/n, thinking that you’ll make it outta here alive. That you’ll ever see your whore again-.” Milton went on and on about you but as soon as he mentioned Kieran your mind fractured in two, the leather straps that held down your arms and legs snapped in half as you forced your limps upwards with a broken yell. Milton tried reaching for his gun but was stopped as you grabbed a bloody throwing knife and shoved it into the side of his neck, blood spurting out of the man’s jugular, a series of growls and grunts escaped your bloodied mouth as you repeatedly stabbed Milton in the face and neck.

You saw red as you grabbed his gun and shot your way out of what looks to be Van Horn, you found your guns stashed in a run-down building and grabbed them before continuing to shoot and kill your way through the countless bounty hunters and Pinkertons. After you determine the coast is clear enough, you grab a dead Pinkerton’s horse and make your way back to Clemens Point, many thoughts were filling your mind as if anything Milton said was true but what if it was?

You shook your head and continued to head through Lemoyne, using your spurs to make the Tennessee Walker pick up speed, racing through the swamps before coming across the torn down cobblestone building, you slow down the speed of your current mount and trot down the small pathway. “Holy shit! It’s Y/n! Dutch, he’s back!” Lenny shouted as he jogged over to you from his spot on guard duty, you began leaning forward in exhaustion and ultimately fell off of the horse to the dirt.

“Jesus! Son, what the hell happened to you?!”

You growled softly as you tried to get up with the help of Dutch and Miss Grimshaw, they questioned you about what happened and you answered as many as you could as they walked you over to your tent to lay you down, Miss Grimshaw quickly walked over to the medical caravan to grab some supplies before returning to your side. She started to patch you up while saying reassuring things to you. You half-listened as you were really out of it by the time she got the bleeding to stop, you fell asleep shortly after Miss Grimshaw dressed your various wounds, Swanson even gave you some morphine to help with the pain.

Kieran returned to camp after he had sobered up enough to ride back, he felt embarrassed and terrified that he had lost you because of some stupid bullshit at the saloon. As soon as he walked past the tree line he saw the various camp members by your tent, ‘Something’s wrong…’ he thought to himself, he rushed over to your tent but was stopped by Arthur walking out of your tent, “Hold it, O’Driscoll, you can’t see him right now. Y/n was kidnapped by Pinkertons and was tortured for most of the night, he ain’t doin’ too well. You can see him in the morning. Plus, you need to sober up some, I can smell you from here.” The blonde man said while lighting a cigarette, Kieran’s eyes welled up with tears immediately following the news of what happened to you.

Arthur looked down at Kieran with a somber look before stepping aside and motioning for him to go inside your tent, he does so quickly but stops mid-stride when he saw the state you were in. Tears spilled down the sides of his face, his lip quivered as he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now, “Y-Y/n, I’m-m so sorry, I sh-should’ve been w-with you! Oh god, please let him recover from this… fuck, I’m s-so ‘hic’ sorry.” Kieran said as he knelt beside you, gently resting his forehead on your bare shoulder.

“It’s okay, Kieran, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have left the saloon like I did. Forgive me?” You mumble, he gasped when you spoke, listening intently to your words. “N-No, I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who kissed her. I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Y/n, it’ll never happen again. I promise.” Kieran said as he grasped your uninjured hand, softly rubbing your knuckles with his thumbs, “Good, can I have a drink of water?” You say as you look over at the small bucket of water and a metal tin cup that sat next to it on a crate.

Kieran grabbed the cup and dunked it into the water to get a good amount of cool water, you try to sit up a little so you could drink, leaning back on your elbows you wait for him to bring the cup to you. Kieran presents the cup to your lips and you drink like you never have had water before, “S-Slow down, you’re gonna choke.” The brunette man said as he rubbed his hand on your shoulder. You gasp softly when you stopped gulping down the water, with a deep sigh you lay back down, the thick layer of gauze on your chest peeled a little, showing the edges of a large laceration to Kieran.

“I’ll be ok, doll, don’t worry about me too much.” You said with a pained grin, he smiles softly before carefully leaning over to kiss your lips, “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, doll.”

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr 2 #kieran duffy x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 kieran #murder tw #torture tw #death tw #fluff #blood tw

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micahscowgirl · 4 years

Text

Bite Me ~ Chapter 4

Micah Bell x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Cursing, Male Masturbation, Choking, Biting, Blood

Word Count: 3700

Sorry I haven’t uploaded in awhile! Been really busy and have had too many people around to just openly write fanfics. I hope this chapter pleases all of my readers <3. I am open to suggestions for the story and am accepting asks as well now, too! I am going to try and open up to new things like headcannons and shorts. Let me know what you think! Asks and inbox are always opened! Love you guys!

Also, this was proofed very quick, if you see any mistakes, let me know and I’ll take care of them!

Micah carried you to the room; he didn't want to wake you. Once inside, he laid you on the bed and covered you up. As he started to turn, you made a whining noise and kicked off the covers.

"Pants," you say, slurring the word. "No pants."

Micah shakes his head and smiles, "God, you're drunk." He obeys your command and slides your pants off. He was being nice for once. It was probably the alcohol and excitement from your little show you threw. After throwing your pants to the other side of the bed, he plops himself in a chair that stood in the corner of the room. He hated his insomnia. It made his nights dreadfully long. He would usually find a few sorry folks on the roads to rob, but he had to stay with you tonight. He didn't know why he felt that he needed to; you were such a smart ass towards him, he should want to avoid you. He would've said he almost hated you the day before when you embarrassed him in front of Charles. All he aimed for was to upset you. You deserved it after all. At the same time, there was that part of him that wanted to own you, have you falling at his feet. He hated that you were different.

He watched you lying there. He had pulled the cover back after sliding off your pants. You were lying on your back, arms laying on either side of your head. Your chest was lifting and falling in a peaceful rhythm. After a while, you began to squirm, turning onto your belly. He thought it was funny how you could appear drunk even in your sleep. He pulled out one of his pistols and began to clean it. He had a long night ahead of him.

He was stopped suddenly when you released a small, dreamy moan. You were caught up in your thoughts, so wound up in your fantasies that they were surfacing for him to hear. He looked up at you and started to think of your moans from earlier. As you were pleasured by the saloon girl, you had said his name. Moaned it, more like. You had been grinding on her, but looking deep in his eyes. He wished so bad that he was that girl. Except he wouldn't have been so gentle. He still needed to punish you for your actions.

Before he knew it, his pants were becoming much tighter. "Dammit, doll, what are you doing to me?" It had been so long since he had been with a woman, and especially long since he'd been with one he didn't pay for. He stands and leaves to the washroom. Thankfully, there was no one in the halls, so he didn't have to hide his growing erection.

He closes the door and paces around the room. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself. ‘That damn woman. She needs to stop getting into your head. She knows what she's doing. You're foolish to think she actually wants you. She's just playing one of her sick games.’ There's a chest up against the wall that he sits down on. He grips his member through his pants, trying to get it to go away. His thoughts won't leave him alone. He feels himself throb harder under his palm. "Fuck." As much as he tries to fool himself, he really doesn't want it to leave.

He undoes his button and zipper and frees his throbbing cock. He squeezes, spits on it, and begins to stroke. He keeps thinking of you grinding, and then bouncing. In his thoughts, you’re on his lap, not hers. As he starts to pick up the pace, he thinks of your hands. His cock would look so good in them. And in your mouth... He grits his teeth, his breath is picking up. Your tight body, your wicked, evil smile. The tip of his dick begins to release the first of his juices. You're so hardheaded, would you hold back your screams to torture him, or would you let them all out? He thinks of how you whimpered when he cut you. He wanted to torture you, spank you, and make you whimper more. He would be in control and you would do as he says.

He feels himself getting closer. He wanted to hear you scream as he pounded you from behind, the sound of skin slapping skin. He would reach up and grab your throat, continuing to push into you harder and harder. He wanted to choke you. You deserved it. You were going to get what you had coming for you. In his mind, he could hear you screaming his name while you tighten around him when you hit your climax.

That thought was the last before he spilled himself all over the floor. "Dear God, Y/N."

He sat there for a few minutes, trying to return to normal breathing, and then stood, sticking his soft member back into his pants. After finally composing himself, he returns to your room, leaving his mess on the floor.

When he enters the room, he sees that you have kicked the blankets down again. He walks over and pulls them back up, not wanting the sight of your body sending his thoughts venturing again. After pulling his jacket off, he sits back in the chair. You aren't making any more noise and you've stopped shifting around. He focuses on your breathing, the perfect, peaceful rhythm. Keeping his breathing at the same pace, he finally let his head fall, and, for the first time in weeks, he slept.

~~~~~~

You awoke the next morning, a throbbing headache already overwhelming you. "Dammit," you say as you sat up, a sharp pain in the side of your head causing you to wince. "What happened last night?" You throw your legs off the edge of the bed, rubbing your palms on your temples. "I ain't never felt this bad." You notice that your pants are lying on the floor, and your holster is hanging over a chair next to the bed. Parts of last night start to return to you. You had robbed a house with Micah; Dutch had sent the two of you together. ‘Wait, where's Micah, then?’ You think to yourself.

You stand up and pull your pants on. As you're securing your holster on, you notice your jacket hanging on a coatrack next to the door. You pull it off and see that Micah's was underneath it. There was no sign of him at the saloon anymore, so he must have forgotten it. After sliding your coat on, you grab his and head out of the room. According to your pocket watch, it's almost noon. The saloon is almost empty, excluding two men at the bar and one speaking with the barber that had a shop in the back.

You nod to the bartender on your way out. "Hey, girl." You approach your horse, patting her on the shoulder. You reach into your satchel to find some crackers for her when you gasp. Inside, there was a huge bundle of cash and a jewelry bag that's almost bursting. There's a note tucked in with the cash. You pull it out and read it. The writing was sloppy, but you could still make it out.

Doubt you remember much from last night, you were hammered, but we made quite a fortune off that house Dutch told us to hit. You mentioned keeping almost all of it after about 3 beers last night. Not sure if you'd have the same opinion when you woke up, so I just gave you all of it to make that decision. I still want my share depending on what you do. I'll see you back at camp, Doll. I have some business to take care of. -M

You look back into your bag at the money again. You can't help but chuckling a little. Not just at the idea of how much money you now had on you, but also at the note he had left. It was too nice to be the Micah you knew. What happened last night? You don't remember much after returning to the saloon. Maybe he still had some alcohol in his blood when he wrote it. That must've been it.

~~~~~~

You dismounted your horse, leaving her next to Arthur's. Jack was sitting nearby, picking some flowers. "Whatcha doing there, bud." You say while approaching him. He looks up at you and smiles.

"Picking flowers. Mama's been sad today, so I want to give her flowers!" He says, holding them up for you to see. "I like the yellow ones best, but I only have four of them."

"Well, I think I might recall seeing some near Pearson's wagon. Might want to check there."

"Really?" He says, jumping to his feet. I'll go look!" He starts to hurry off. You smile at the sight of his run, missing the days when all that mattered was where to find the best flowers.

You make your way over to Dutch's tent. He's sitting inside on his bed reading a book. Or, trying to read a book, that is. Miss O'Shea is fussing about who-knows-what. She always seems to be upset about something.

"Knock knock," You say as you walk in. Molly gives you a small snarl. Dutch looks up from his book at you.

"Great, give your attention to your little errand girl. I only must wonder what she's offering you for you to show so much interest in her. You probably know every bit of what's hiding under those clothes of hers." Before Dutch can say anything, she turns sharply and stomps off.

Dutch stands, lying his book on the bed. "I'm sorry about her, she doesn't know how to hold her tongue."

"She's just stressed. She probably feels that it's her job to try to relieve you of all the stress that you carry." As much as you dislike, Miss O'Shea, you don't feel it's appropriate to express those opinions, especially to Dutch. He just shakes his head, opening a new box of cigars. You don't want to linger on the subject, so you continue. "Micah and I paid a visit to that house last night." You reach into your bag and pull out the jewelry bag, which you had emptied more than half of on your way back. You hand it to him, and then pull out $200, which was just a small portion of what you actually made away with. You hold it while he looks in the bag and then hand it to him when he's done. He doesn't say much while he counts it.

"Where's Micah?" He finally says.

The question caught you off-guard. "W-What? Oh, I-I'm not sure." He turns and places the take on his bed.

"Did he put you up to this?"

"Pardon?"

He turns to look at you. "I may not have known you very long, but I can tell when you're lying." He walks up to you, only about a foot away, he seems to tower over you. "Micah set you up to this?"

You take a deep, quiet breath. You can remain calm in front of Micah, you can do the same to Dutch. "What are you accusing me of, boss?"

He starts to walk around you, taking a slow drag from his fresh cigar. "You know? I would've easily expected this from him, but never of you." He's facing you again. "Uncle told me exactly what the man said. The house you to robbed was sitting on a lot more than this."

You remain still, not showing him that he's right. "That's what he told us, too. But that's all we found. Must've had the rest of his fortune locked up tight somewhere. Micah and I looked as much as we could while they were asleep. We're doing our best without being shot or thrown in jail. Now, if you'll excuse me." You walk away from him, but are stopped quick when Dutch grabs your shoulder. This is the first time that Dutch has ever made you feel unsafe.

"Don't let him change you, Y/N. He's not a good influence, especially for someone as talented and special as you." He leans closer to you and whispers. "I let you come with us; join our family. Just remember that." He releases your shoulder and you walk out of his tent without saying anything else. You can't help but feel guilty.

~~~~~

Later that evening, you were sitting next to the fire. Javier was strumming at his guitar--not in any particular rhythm, but just playing with different chords. You were waiting for Micah to return. His share was still in your tent. You had removed it from your bag and hid it in your suitcase, tucked in with your undergarments. Hopefully, if anyone went snooping, they wouldn't find it. You hadn't seen any sight of him. Your thoughts kept falling back to Dutch. He had angered you and hurt you, even though you were guilty of what he was accusing you of.

Arthur and Charles were sitting nearby, talking about a hunting trip they were going to be taking the next day. After they were done, Arthur stood to walk away, when he spotted you. He walked over, and took a seat on the ground, leaning against the log you were sitting on. "Heard the house wasn't as good as Uncle led us to believe." You began to get hot. "Dutch was telling me about it."

You snap slightly, not getting loud enough to draw any attention. "What did he tell you?"

Surprised at your reaction, Arthur studders back, "I-I don't--nothing I don't guess." He looks down, you can tell he was genuinely shocked, meaning Dutch hadn't shared his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," you say, standing up quickly and hurrying away.

"Wait," He says. "Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." He gets up quickly and follows you to your tent. He pushes back the flap and sees you sitting on the cheap, ragged rug you have covering the dirt, leaning up against your cot. Your arms are propped on your knees and your head is leaning down towards the ground. He walks over and crouches down in front of you.

"I didn't mean to upset you, miss. You shouldn't blame yourself for a bad lead." You glance up at him.

You shake your head, "It's not that, it's just..." you pause, trying to find the best words. "I guess it's just been a weird day. Dutch just seemed upset with the take, he was expecting it to be much more as well," you lie, not wanting to admit how the conversation with Dutch had actually gone. "I just hate to let him down." You sigh.

"Now, Y/N, Dutch ain't one to hold things like that against you, you should know that. He's here to look out for us and he'll support us regardless." You can't help but think of Dutch's aggressiveness when he had grabbed your shoulder. Only you knew how much you had upset him. But that wasn't the only reason you were upset.

"Arthur?" you ask. He lifts his eyebrows in acknowledgment. "Did Micah mention any sort of 'business' he might have had to attend to? I haven't seen him since last night." You leave out the part that you couldn't even remember seeing him the night before, you're memory was still trying to find it's way back to you. "I still have his share from the job to give him." And also you wanted to give him a piece of your mind for convincing you to keep most of the take. There was no way that was actually your idea.

"No, not really. I try my best to avoid the asshole." He chuckles. "You probably already know that though."

You smile. "Yeah, I guess so. Well, anyway, I guess I'm going to call it a night." He nods and stands up.

"I'm probably going to do the same."

You say your goodbyes and pull the flap of your tent closed. You sat down on the cot and pulled off your pants, keeping your shirt on, too exhausted to change it. You figured that you wouldn't sleep because of how worked up you had become, but once you laid down, you were out almost instantly.

~~~~~~

It was midnight when you were woken up. There were branches snapping behind your tent, almost directly next to your cot. Keeping still, you listen carefully. The steps don't belong to an animal. The steps move around your tent, coming closer to the entrance. You act fast, quietly pulling out from under the covers, you swing your feet off of the bed and hurry to grab your knife and crouch behind a chest you have placed next to the door. The steps come to a halt right outside and you hold your breath. Your tent is on the outskirts of the camp so you're easily the easiest target for wandering bandits. Or even worse, the O'Driscolls. After what felt like forever, the flap was pulled over and a man stepped in. He was wearing a leather coat you'd never seen anyone at camp wear. The collar was pulled up so you couldn't get a look at his face. He walked over to your bed and pulled the cover back. He reached down and picked up Micah's coat.

"Anyone ever teach you that it's not okay to steal?"

"Dammit, Micah! You need to quit scaring the shit out of me!" You say as he turns around to face you.

"You gonna answer my question?" He begins to move towards you. As you stand up he continues, "This ain't yours, dollface." He holds the coat up.

"Well you left--" He reaches forward and grabs the front of your shirt, startling you.

"You obviously don't know that if something don't belong to you, you don't take it." He pulls you forward, you're just inches from his face. "I gotta teach you a lesson; punish you for your actions."

He lets your shirt go and slides his hand up onto your neck. He's not grabbing tight, but it still takes your breath away. Your lips quiver and legs shake just slightly, but it's the reaction he was hoping for. The feelings of wanting him return instantly. You needed him.

"Now let's see," He starts, "Why don't you take that shirt of yours off, show me what you've been hiding under there."

"O-okay," you say and lift your hands, beginning the buttons from the top.

"Sir," He says.

"Huh?"

"Call me sir."

"Oh, y-yes, Sir." He nods, watching you undo the buttons on your shirt. You finish, and pull it off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. You were wearing a worn corset underneath. He moves his hand from your neck.

"Turn," he says. You do as he says. You can still feel where his fingers were holding on your skin and you could almost beg to have them back. He undoes your corset, pulling it off and throwing it over to your bed. He runs his hands up your back, almost causing you to whimper. You have never wanted someone so bad in your life. He walks around you, standing back to get a full view of you, standing there, completely under his control.

He steps forward, coming close to you once again. He doesn't grab you or feel you like you so badly want him to. He simply raises a hand and touches the fading bruise on your chest. "That's what you get for being so dirty, playing a little trick on me." He then moves his finger over to your other breast. There is another bruise there, a smaller, pinker one. Where did that come from?

"And that was caused by another little trick you played on me. I doubt you remember that, though. I can see the confusion on your face." He draws a line up to your neck. You gulp, and he smiles. "Tell me you're sorry and maybe I'll let you be."

You look up and him. You didn't want him to leave. You want to provoke him. "I'm not sorry, Sir. You had it coming for you."

Immediately, he grabs your jaw and pulls you closer. It hurts, but you want it. "What was that, dollface? 'Fraid I misheard you."

"You deserved everything I gave you."

"Wrong answer."

He moves your face away from him, giving him full access to your neck. He leans in and bites you. A shocked breath and whimper escape your throat. Your underwear felt drenched. You were craving him. He had broken skin and was sucking on the tender spot right above your collarbone. Your arms move up and grab onto his coat, trying to pull him closer to you. Your hips move on their own, trying to grind against him. "M-Micah," You say softly, in between gasps.

He pulls away from you and looks deep into your eyes. You notice a small bit of blood on his mustache. He reaches up, drawing a finger against his bite. It stings, but you don't notice. He has you in a trance. He pulls his finger away and licks the blood--your blood--off, smiling.

"What's the matter, doll?" He says in his deep, raspy voice. "You're trembling like crazy." He brushes his fingers up your arm.

"Micah..." you begin, except you don't know what you mean to say. Everything has caught you by surprise.

He leans in once more, whispering in your ear, "I hope you've learned your lesson." After pulling away, he turns and leaves, leaving you standing there, completely shocked and turned on. So many emotions pass through you in an instant; disappointment, happiness, sadness, and lust. But most of all, you knew that you were going to have to return the favor. Make him completely subjective to you, and then leave.

You eventually pull your shirt back on and lay down. The adrenaline begins to leave you, and you are asleep within minutes.

#micah bell smut #micah bell #micah bell x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption #smut #rdr2 fanfic

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years

Text

A New Adventure

Warnings: None

Word count: ~2300

**Author’s note - This takes place in Utah (for my own reasons). This one shot is to set up my modern reader x Arthur Morgan head cannons. I am open to requests and ideas! If you like what you read, leave a comment!**

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You’re walking in the park by your home. It’s something you like to do every day with your dog, not only to give her exercise but so you can get some too. After all, working in an office at a desk doesn’t allow you to walk around much.

The park is pretty and you’re lucky to be living just down the street from it. It sits at the foot of a mountain range in your home valley. Right now, there’s some snow on the ground from a big storm that came through a few days ago, but it’s already melting. Perks of living in the west. Sure, winters are cold and long and the snow sucks worse, but at least it only sticks around for a few days. You love living out here though. The mountains are beautiful, you wouldn’t trade them for hardly anything.

You walk along the west side of the park right at the base of the mountain. There’s a small cave there, it only goes back about twenty feet and the local kids like to go play in there, and sometimes the older kids go in there to smoke or drink. Luckily because you live in a small neighborhood that isn’t close enough to the big city, kids smoking is about the worst that happens out here. You’ve been inside the cave once. There’s a weird drawing on the back wall, but several people have left their artists marks behind in it, so you’ve never thought anything of it.

As you begin approaching, Sage, your Bernese mountain dog, begins barking at it. Strange. She rarely barks and she’s been past this cave pretty much every day since you’ve had her. Maybe there’s a racoon or a skunk in there tonight.

You tell Sage to shush and continue walking towards the cave. She settles down but still growls. You begin thinking of other things and forgetting about her behavior when a man steps out of the cave. You recognize him, not by his face, but his outfit. He’s dressed as Arthur Morgan from your favorite video game Red Dead Redemption 2. You smile at him. Cosplayers are a pretty big deal in your state, thanks to the rise of your local comic book convention. However, he’s dressed up for the wrong time for the con, it’s not until September. It’s only February. And why the hell would this cosplayer be in the cave dressed up? Weird.

You keep walking. Sage wags her tail at him but continues on with you, no longer growling. She probably could smell him and not see him, explaining the barking. She’s an overly friendly dog so you’re not worried about her.

The man looks around as though he’s no idea where he is. Maybe he’s on something. As you get closer, you think he’s an exceptional Arthur Morgan. He looks just like him. Not only are his clothes exactly like the character’s, even worn and dirty in the right spots, his face is exactly like him. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, light stubble on his jawline and unkempt hair under his iconic hat. You can even see the bald spot on his chin where Arthur has a scar.

He continues looking around, confused, and then he spots you. You’re too close to just ignore him so you smile.

“Nice cosplay!” you say.

“Excuse me?” he says. Man, he even sounds like Arthur!

“I said, nice cosplay! You going to a costume party or something.”

“A what? Lady, I ain’t got no clue what you’re saying.”

You’ve stopped by this point to look at him, giving him a confused smile. “Man, you’re really in character too! I gotta admire that. I’m a cosplayer too but I can never stay in character. Kudos to you though!”

You’re tempted to ask for a picture, but it seems perhaps a little inappropriate. He’s looking at you like you’re a freak, as if he wasn’t the one who just popped out of a cave.

“Well, have a good night,” you say, walking on.

“Uh, sure I guess. Hey, ma’am?” he jogs up to you and stops a few feet from you. He’s beginning to weird you out. Just because you live in a small neighborhood doesn’t mean you don’t know how dangerous people can be, particularly men. Besides, if he’s on something, he could be even more of a threat. You keep a tight leash on Sage. She’s not likely to attack him, but you don’t want him to know how much of a pushover pooch she is.

“Sorry, ma’am, guess I’m just a little lost. Um, maybe ya can help me?”

“Sure, I guess. What you wanna know?”

“Well, where the hell am I, for starters.”

You tell him the name of your town, keeping a hard eye on him.

“Where is that exactly? Are we in New Hanover? Or West Elizabeth maybe?”

“Oh boy, you really are selling this cosplay, ain’t you? Well, okay. I’ll play along. Mr. Morgan, you are in Utah.”

“Utah?” he says. He looks away and mouths the word. You know that Utah wasn’t a state until 1896, three years before Red Dead 2 takes place. Boy, this guy is really selling this.

“Yeah. Come on, dude, quit playing. Your cosplay is on point, in fact everything about you is on point. But… come on, man what’s your name?”

“Well, seems you already know my last name, miss. Name’s Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

“Still playing, huh?” you say with a sigh. “Fine, have it your way.” You wonder if he’s one of those people with an illness that makes him believe he’s someone else. Like Teddy from Arsenic and Old Lace, who firmly believed he was Theodore Rosevelt. “Well, come on,” you say, wondering if you need to call the police or have him checked into a hospital.

“Ma’am, I promise you I ain’t crazy and I ain’t playin’ whatever you think I’m playin’. Tell me, is it still 1899?’”

“What? Dude, come on. It’s 2020.”

“2020!” he cuts you off. “What the hell?” He looks around again and towards the east side of the park where the rec center and playground is, and beyond that the main road, busy with cars heading home for the night. His look of confusion and even fear is so genuine that you wonder what’s really going on.

“Look, mister. What was the last thing you were doing before coming here?”

He looks at you for a moment before answering. “I was in Big Valley collectin’ orchids for some crazy feller. I walked into this cave and saw a dinosaur bone. Some lady, don’t remember what she called herself, said she’d pay me for locations of bones. I went over to mark it and I saw this weird symbol on the wall. I touched it and the mouth of the cave got wickedly bright, it got hot, and when the light went away, I stepped out here.”

He looks around again. “You seen a horse anywhere?”

You look at him sadly. This poor, deluded man. Truly believes he’s Arthur Morgan, picking flowers for that collector in Saint Denis and finding bones for the paleontologist lady. You wonder who this man identified with before Red Dead 2 came out in 2018.

“Mister, only rich people own horses. There’s some about a mile north, but they don’t belong to you I don’t think.”

He looks at you, confused again.

“Come on, mister,” you say, beckoning him to follow. “Let me, um… I think you need to see someone.”

You begin walking again but he calls to you.

“Still don’t believe me, do ya miss?”

“Listen to yourself!” you say. “Arthur Morgan is from a video game. A video game! He’s not real, but you are. Please sir, I think you need help.”

“Lady, I don’t know what the hell a video game is, but I can prove I am real and I am Arthur Morgan!”

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a slightly ruffled looking orchid. The kind you know from playing the game grows in Big Valley in West Elizabeth, in the forest where the pigs and cougars spawn. He then pulls out a newspaper and hands it to you.

The newspaper’s called “Saint Denis Times” and it’s dated June 18, 1899. The top headline is reporting the bloody massacre of the Grey family in Rhodes. You’ve read the newspapers in the game once before and you remember the article. It’s exactly the same as the one from the game. He then pulls out his pocketwatch. It’s worn and dirty just like the one from the game.

He continues pulling out more objects, even some dried meat. As he shows you more things, you inspect the guns in his holsters. They look real. In his holster on his right hip, you see the double-action revolver with its gold barrel and white handle. You see the engraving of a stag’s head on it.

The more he shows you, the more you find it hard to believe he’s not the real Arthur Morgan. But how in the hell is this possible? It can’t be and yet here he is. He even pulls out his journal. He doesn’t open it, you’re not surprised. You’ve played the game enough to know he’d never show you what’s inside (even though you’ve already seen it). Everything he’s shown you seems so genuine, so real. Something inside you says he’s not making it up, but how in the hell can it be real? There’s no logic to it!

You tell him to put his things away as you try to think how this could have happened. Arthur, or whatever his real name is, asks to show you the drawing he touched in the cave. You say okay, but keep a firm grip on the pepper spray in your pocket (you never go anywhere without it). The man leads you to the cave and you pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight.

“What is that?” he asks to the slim device in your hand, trying to stare into the light, flabbergasted by it.

“It’s a phone,” you say, continuing on in the cave. Sage sniffs along the ground happily, but as you approach the back, she starts barking. The same way she was before the man came out of the cave.

“That’s it,” he says, pointing to it. The drawing looks like some strange symbol. Although you’ve studied some anthropology and symbolism, you’ve never been able to place the culture or meaning of the symbol and just assumed some kid did it. However, getting closer to it, you see it’s been carved into the rock and looks like it’s been there for a long time.

Arthur grabs your shoulder. “Don’t get closer to it, miss. I ain’t too sure what it is, but… well, it ain’t good I think. It’s what I touched and that’s how I ended up here.”

You heed his warning and take a few steps back. You take a picture of it so you can do some research. You aren’t too sure what to do at this point. Something tells you that you can’t take this man to the hospital, and calling the cops wouldn’t do any good. However, the sun’s setting and you have to work in the morning. All your logic says he can’t stay with you, this isn’t a Disney movie after all. He might be playing an elaborate hoax or something.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” he asks.

“How can I?” you demand. “I mean, listen to yourself! You can’t be Arthur Morgan! He’s from a video game!”

The man sighs and walks over to the wall, placing his hand on the symbol. Sage begins barking like crazy and the opening of the cave becomes too bright to look at and the cave fills with hot air. After a few seconds, the light dims and it cools.

You step outside the cave and find yourself standing in Big Valley. You’re in awe. Somehow, you’ve been transported to 1899 into the game of Red Dead. A pig somewhere nearby squeals and you see, maybe 50 feet away, a huge Ardennes warhorse. She snorts at Arthur.

“You believe me now, miss?” he asks.

You nod, still unable to speak.

“Good. I… I have to admit, I wasn’t sure that’d work.”

You finally look at him understandingly. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I can understand why, miss. I wouldn’t believe it myself if it hadn’t happened to me.” He looks around and then begins to cough.

“Shit, Arthur. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, spitting into the grass and wiping his mouth. You see the small line of blood left away.

“Arthur, you have TB, don’t you?”

He looks at you, shocked. “How… how do you know that? I only saw a doctor for it two days ago.”

Where to begin with this, you wonder. “Um… it’ll take some explaining, but come on. Let’s see if we can go back and I can get you some medicine for it.”

“You mean… there’s a cure for it where you come from?”

“Well, sort of. We don’t have a cure, per say, but we do have antibiotics. They’ll kick your ass just about as much as the bacteria, but at least you’re more likely to live.”

He looks at you and you see a glimmer of hope. “Okay. I’ll go with you, miss.”

You head back into the cave and touch the symbol. It surprisingly works again and you’re taken back to your time and your park. You’ll take Arthur to a doctor, but you have to drop Sage off at your house and get a car. You have to smile to yourself as you tell Arthur to walk with you. What an adventure this is going to be.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x female reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x female #R* Games #rockstar games #I'm awkward #Van Der Linde Gang #a new adventure

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

wild flower, chapter six (shalaska) 6/11 - freyja

A/N: To quote mags last chapter, “Oh no. She has a fever. There’s an infection. There’s an infection because I was stupid and let them lay on the ground.” In other words: I think we all know who to blame. She’s also responsible for the lack of inconsistencies in this chapter, as she caught them all like butterflies in a net, but we can’t lose focus here.

If the quote wasn’t enough, here’s the summary: Sharon has an infection. It brings up some unwanted memories for Alaska, and even worse: some unwanted feelings.

🌸 “There is only one road away from trouble, and this is along the straight and narrow road.” – Otto Wood 🌸

Alaska is nine again, and she has her ear pressed to her parents’ bedroom door, desperately trying to distinguish the muffled voices of the doctor and her father. Their deep voices sound the same, and she tries to hold her breath in order to hear them better, her pounding heartbeat hindrance enough.

She catches some words, but they don’t make any sense no matter what order she puts them into. The doctor, serious and droll, with his ‘look’s and ‘do’s. Her father, urgent and demanding, with his ‘best’s and ‘money’s.

She gets down on her hands and knees, finished with trying to hear through the wood the moment her father seems to become completely inaudible, and instead gets as close to the crack at the bottom as possible. The darkness of the hallway allows the warm light of candles to bleed through onto the hardwood, and Alaska turns her head to see underneath as well, staring at her father’s brown Oxfords and the doctor’s black Gladstone bag.

“There has to be something.” Her father. He sounds strange - wobbly, almost. But no less demanding.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what else to do,” the doctor sighs, sounding sad. “Her lungs will give out soon. I recommend you say your goodbyes while you still can. You have a daughter, correct?”

Alaska frowns, her breathing starting to pick up. They’re talking about her mother, but it doesn’t make sense. Her mother is strong - she’ll get through this. Her father thinks so too, and he’s never wrong. The doctor must be talking about someone else.

He has to be.

“Yes,” her father says, after a beat. His voice is rough. “She - I haven’t been letting her in here. Just in case.”

“Wise,” the doctor says, and his bag lifts into the air, revealing nondescript black shoes. “But she should see Lily. Before it’s too late.”

Alaska waits for her father to deny him.

“Of course,” her father says, and Alaska’s heart drops. There’s another long pause. “Of course. And there’s nothing you can do?”

“Mr. Thunder,” the doctor says. “We’ve been prolonging this for far too long. It’s time.”

A beat. “Then you can get out,” her father says, voice cold like it gets when she comes in with grass stains on her skirt.

“Arthur–”

“Get out.”

The doctor sighs, but he starts walking to the door, and Alaska only has enough time to scramble back a few feet before he’s opening the door and nearly tripping over her.

“What–?” he says, arms spread out for balance as he stumbles, and Alaska has to squint her eyes against the sudden onslaught of light.

She looks up at him, silent with fear. He stares back at her, his eyebrows shooting up briefly in realization before his face flattens into an expression Alaska can’t pinpoint.

“You must be the daughter,” he says, and Alaska’s father can be heard from within the room.

“What?”

“Your daughter,” the doctor clarifies as her father appears above his shoulder, looking down severely at Alaska. “She was listening.”

“Clearly,” he father says, anger just barely hidden under his tone. “Get up,” he snaps at Alaska, who scrambles to her feet as quickly as she can. “A lady doesn’t behave this way in front of guests.”

Alaska stares at the ground in shame, tears welling in her eyes. “Sorry,” she says quietly, and she jumps as a large hand lands on her shoulder.

“Be gentle on her,” the doctor says, his voice softened. “Her curiosity is understandable, given the circumstances.”

“Didn’t I tell you to get out?” her father snaps, and the doctor’s hand briefly clenches on her shoulder before he’s drawing away.

“Mr. Thunder,” he says courteously, and then he moves down the stairs without so much as another word. Alaska finds herself longing for his comforting hand again - it feels like she hasn’t been touched since her mother went into her room and didn’t come out.

“Alaska, look at me,” her father says as soon as the front door slams shut. Alaska obeys, albeit reluctantly, and her father’s expression is one she’s never seen before.

It’s sad, and softened because of it. It has Alaska letting out a sob before she can help it.

“Jesus,” her father whispers, and suddenly he’s kneeling in front of her, reaching out to awkwardly touch her shoulder. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

“What’s wrong with mommy?” Alaska sobs, and before she can think better of it, she’s stepping forwards and burrowing her face into her father’s shoulder. He tenses underneath her, but a hand comes to rest on her back, and it’s enough. “Isn’t she going to be okay?”

“She–” her father stops. “Would you like to see her?”

He doesn’t have to explain that it will be the last time, and Alaska nods into his shoulder, only crying harder.

“Alright,” he says, and then he stands. He doesn’t hold her hand as he leads her into the room, and Alaska feels bare, unsure, as they cross the threshold she hasn’t been allowed past for three months.

Three months of waiting for her mother to get better, and all for nothing.

She looks around the room, first - she takes in the pictures that hang on the walls, the patterned wallpaper that her mother had chosen earlier that year, the fresh flowers on the nightstand. Then, her eyes catch on the occupant of the enormous bed, and she bursts into a fresh round of tears.

Her mother hardly looks like herself.

She looks nearly dead, with her pallid skin and nearly colorless hair, the fever bright spots on her cheeks. Blood drips from several cuts on her arm, filling a small bowl on the bed, and a matching spot of blood stains the corner of her mouth. Her skin looks stretched, her cheekbones standing out far too much, and her breathing, already painfully slow, comes out in rattling wheezes.

When Alaska touches her hand, it’s far too warm.

“Mom?” she asks, and there’s no response. Her father’s hand lands on her shoulder, but it only seems to make things worse. “Mom?”

Another rattling wheeze.

The room feels suddenly too hot, and Alaska breaks out into a horrible sweat, staring at her mother’s face. It’s too stuffy, and Alaska feels like she can’t breathe either, the warm air filling her lungs and suffocating her until she–

Alaska wakes up sweating, gasping for air.

It takes her a moment to orient herself - she’s in Colorado, not New York, she’s in Sharon’s tent, not her mother’s sickroom, and it’s 1874, not 1859. More importantly, the air is cool here, and not a suffocating heat.

She’s still sweating, however, and it takes her another moment to realize that it’s because Sharon is plastered to her side, shivering, and burning hot.

It sends Alaska’s heart into overdrive.

“Sharon?” she asks worriedly, pulling away from the other woman as gently as she can. “Wake up. Sharon.”

No response.

“Fuck,” Alaska says, pushing her hair out of her face. She tries again, this time with a shout: “Sharon!”

There isn’t a response, and Alaska’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest, a lump of tears wedging itself in her throat. “Please,” she says, taking in Sharon’s flushed cheeks, her grey skin. Tears well up in her eyes and blur her vision. Thoughts of death and disease start to grow in her mind like a fungus, and she feels suddenly weak, shaking slightly.

She buries her face in her hands, sobbing. She feels hopeless, like Sharon’s already gone without one last chance to say goodbye, and she feels like giving up. She feels like curling into a ball and disappearing forever, like running out of the tent and into the woods until she can be alone for good. Somewhere she can live without loved ones that die and leave her anyway.

But what kind of existence is that?

The thought shocks clarity into her, its voice startlingly like Sharon’s. She takes one deep breath, the inhale shaky, and then another.

“Fucking hell,” she breathes out, and she reaches out to Sharon, and shakes her. “Sharon!”

All she gets is a flutter of the eyelids and a faint groan.

It’s enough to give her hope.

“Jesus,” she breathes out, and she stumbles to her feet, tripping slightly over her long skirt. Relief has her shaking again. She pushes her hair out of her face again, wiping her tears off of her face as she grabs her shawl from Sharon’s dresser.

She needs to get Katya. Now.

🌸

Alaska is not allowed back into the tent once Katya is inside.

It’s horribly reminiscent of her mother’s final hours, her nightmare coming back to haunt her now that her only distraction is how the embers glow in the fire pit, but Jinkx soon appears at her side, looking worried out of her mind and like she hasn’t slept all night.

Alaska is so grateful to see her.

“Is she going to be okay?” Jinkx asks worriedly, taking Alaska’s hand and squeezing it.

Alaska thinks briefly about jerking away, staring at their hands for a moment, but she knows Jinkx needs the physical comfort, and it isn’t hurting her. She squeezes back, and the solidity of Jinkx’s hand in hers is reassuring.

“I have no idea,” she says, turning her eyes back to the dying fire.

“How bad is she?” Jinkx asks. “How was she when you went to sleep? Did you hear anything? Did–”

“She wasn’t waking up,” Alaska interrupts, her own distress mounting as Jinkx talks out her own. “Her fever is so bad that she wasn’t waking up.” Her heart starts to pound again at the thought, and her mother’s sleeping face flashes through her mind like a bad omen.

“Jesus Christ,” Jinkx whispers, and Alaska feels like crying again.

“I need to go in,” she says, and she tries to wipe her tears away as subtly as she can manage. “I have to see her. But–” She cuts herself off, unable to speak anymore without sobbing.

“We need to let Katya do her work the way she needs to,” Jinkx says, after a moment.

“But what if that doesn’t work?” Alaska says, irritated by Jinkx’s attempt to reassure her. It feels like an argument, like she thinks Alaska doesn’t know what’s best. “I’m sitting out here because I know that. But what if it doesn’t work, and we never see her again? Don’t you care?” she snaps out, and Jinkx pulls her hand away.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jinkx says, her voice thick, and Alaska stares into the fire, anger and regret bubbling in her chest. “She’s wanted dead or alive, right? What does it matter that she’s dead?”

“Fuck you,” Alaska says lowly, but guilt twists within her, nausea rising to the occasion. If she regrets anything she’s said since arriving in Colorado, it’s that. Sharon felt immortal just a day ago, despite her injury and because of her resilience to it, but now she’s staring at the fact that Sharon may not survive this.

Tears well up in her eyes, and she feels one fall as she finally looks at Jinkx. The other woman looks hurt, and worried, but it’s the anger there that makes the last of Alaska’s own go out. “I didn’t - Jinkx, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t think–”

“I know,” Jinkx says, her expression softening. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, not now, at least. I just - you said that Sharon might not–”

“My mother died like this,” Alaska says all in one breath. “Only we had a better doctor.”

“Don’t let Katya hear you,” Jinkx says, smiling slightly, but she touches Alaska’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“She went into her room and never came out,” Alaska says, and then she takes another breath. “I never got to see her before she passed.”

There’s a certain comfort in knowing that she’ll never know if her mother had looked as bad as she does in her nightmares. Maybe she had died still beautiful, with dignity - at least as much as there is in disease. Maybe she had looked worse, and Alaska had been spared the pain.

Alaska had denied her father’s invitation to see her mother one last time, his warnings and the smell of antiseptic creating a fear so great within her that she had refused to even look into the room. Her father gave her an hour to change her mind. It didn’t matter - her mother passed thirty minutes later.

Alaska doesn’t want to make that mistake again.

“Sharon won’t–” Jinkx cuts herself off. “She’s going to be fine. She always is.”

Alaska gives her a weak smile, and she tries to find it in herself to believe her.

They sit in silence for another few minutes, the cool breeze making them shiver slightly as they both stare at the embers of the fire. The sound of the tent flap opening has them both shooting to their feet again, and Katya emerges, looking drawn and pale.

“I need some water from the creek,” she says, and she points at Jinkx. “Jinkx, you help me.”

“I can help too,” Alaska says, stepping forwards, and Katya holds up a hand, smiling slightly.

“I could use your arms as toothpicks. No, you get the fun job.”

Alaska frowns. “The fun job?”

“Sit with Sharon and make sure nothing happens. If something does, shout for us,” Katya walks past her to grab a pot and a metal bucket from next to the fire. She gives the bucket to Jinkx. “The water is to cool her down, and I can’t do much until that happens.”

Alaska moves to the tent without any other questions, only to hesitate right before pushing the flap aside. A strange fear pools in her stomach, shifting and irrational, and she can’t seem to bring herself to go in just yet.

What if Sharon is–

“What are you doing?” Katya snaps. “Get in there!”

Alaska ducks inside without a second thought.

The tent is warm, stuffy - Alaska’s breath catches at the sudden shift, the sense of illness crawling up her lungs. It’s dark, but a lantern burns on top of one of the crates, casting Sharon in a dim, flickering light. As Alaska sits down next to her, she can make out a frown of discomfort on her face, sweat beading at her temples.

The silence is oppressive.

“You’d better not die on me,” Alaska says after a moment, her voice low in an almost whisper. “Who’s going to protect me from Solomon? You still have a deal to uphold, and someone once told me you never break your word.”

Sharon’s eyebrow doesn’t even twitch, and Alaska suddenly has a hard time holding her tears at bay.

“You look like my mom,” she says. “Or at least I assume you do. I never got to see her when she was–” she cuts herself off, taking in a shaking breath. “This is already a little better. At least I can see you. At least I can–” She cuts herself off, touching Sharon’s hand and curling it into her own in silence. It’s clammy, and she does her best to warm it between her palms. She tries to ignore how limp it is.

“You’re - I thought I hated you,” Alaska whispers, even quieter. “I - clearly, I don’t.” She pauses for a moment, holding her breath and feeling like she’s just confessed one of her darkest secrets. Sharon doesn’t stir.

Abruptly, the whole thing feels ridiculous. “I mean, clearly,” Alaska snorts, glancing down at where she has Sharon’s hand between hers. “I’m holding your hand. What kind of woman does that with her kidnapper?” She laughs a little, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I think a week ago I would have run, right here and right now. You could have died and I would have laughed.” Her voice breaks on the last word, and fear curdles in her stomach.

“I think you’ve changed something in me,” she whispers, and she squeezes her eyes shut against the confession, a raw and vulnerable feeling in her chest. Or maybe you’ve just allowed me to be who I really am.

She bites her tongue against those words. They aren’t true. They can’t be.

“Good,” Sharon says, and Alaska jumps, whipping her head up from their intertwining hands to look at Sharon’s face. Sharon smirks, her eyes still half lidded with exhaustion, but lucid.

“Whatever you heard–” Alaska starts, but Sharon squeezes her hand, startling her into silence.

“Don’t tell me it was a lie,” she says softly, face suddenly serious. “Because you’re… you’re changing something in me too.”

Alaska stares at her, the words striking a chord and making something warm spread through her chest. She tries her best to push it back down, but to no avail. “What could you possibly have to learn from me? How to be a civilized person? I didn’t think that was possible.”

Sharon smiles a little. “I’m learning how to be vulnerable again,” she says, closing her eyes. Her grip remains firm in Alaska’s. “With you I feel safe.”

“I don’t even know how to shoot a gun,” Alaska laughs, but the warmth in her chest is swelling, spilling throughout her entire body and sending goosebumps up her arms. “You - you make me feel safe.”

“There are other ways to be safe,” Sharon says softly, opening her eyes again, and Alaska finds herself at a loss for words.

She hasn’t ever felt this way before, and she doesn’t know what to do with the enormity of the feeling. She feels weightless - she feels like a string is attaching her to the woman lying in front of her, like Sharon is the one keeping her from flying away. Alaska wants to shorten the distance.

“Sharon,” she breathes out, and she reaches out to cup Sharon’s cheek. Sharon immediately wraps her hand around Alaska’s wrist, holding her there. Alaska feels affection burst within her, as well as a shining beam of hope at the cool skin beneath her palm.

“Sharon,” she says again, unable to help the slow smile from creeping across her face. “I think your fever broke.”

“I had a fever?” Sharon says, her eyes glittering with amusement, and Alaska leans down to–

“The fever is broken?” Katya asks, and Alaska shoots away from Sharon, flying to her feet and ignoring the confused look Sharon sends her.

“I - uh, I’m–” she stammers, a blush creeping up her neck and over her ears. Sharon ends up saving her, but she can’t bring herself to even glance at the other woman gratefully, too embarrassed of what she had been about to do just seconds before. Her heart beats quickly at the reminder, and she has to suck in a shaky breath as Sharon speaks.

“She’s no doctor, but I am sweating like a pig in heat,” Sharon says, and Katya edges past Alaska to drop to her knees next to Sharon, feeling her forehead. Alaska steps away, into the background.

“It is,” Katya says, a huge grin splitting her face. “Thank god. Oh, thank god.” She grabs Sharon’s face between her hands and kisses her forehead grandly, her smile insane. “You lucky bitch.”

“Don’t call me ‘bitch’,” Sharon says as Katya clasps her hands.

“With the stress you have put me through, I’d say you deserve worse.”

“Did you say her fever was down?” Jinkx says, poking her head in and eyes lighting up when Katya nods. “Oh, thank god.” She rushes in, kneeling next to Sharon’s other side and grasping her hand tightly. “You had me so worried.”

“I had enough melodrama with Alaska,” Sharon says dryly, but she lifts her other hand to cover Jinkx’s, smiling softly. “You had nothing to worry about.”

“Next time I’ll get the fever,” Jinkx tells her, unimpressed, “and then I can tell you that you had nothing to worry about. And please - you love melodrama.”

“Alaska,” Katya says, glancing behind her and holding out a rag. Alaska takes it, an unidentifiable feeling ballooning in her stomach. “Please, wet this in one of the buckets outside.”

Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth, reluctant to leave Sharon and reluctant to show it to anyone.

“Alright,” she says, after a beat, and then she’s ducking out of the tent, the cool air like a slap in the face.

“Fuck,” she whispers harshly. She wants to go back in. She needs to see Sharon, to touch her and make sure she’s still real, still here. She hates herself for her need - it’s weak, and it’s stupid. But the need is still there.

It’s ironic, she thinks as she makes her way over to the buckets resting by the side of the tent, that she’s had so many moments alone with Sharon, and the one time she actually wants one, she can’t have it.

Irony has never been her favorite motif.

🌸

A week passes before Sharon is deemed ‘healed’ by Katya, and it’s enough time for Alaska to get over whatever fever of emotion had possessed her the night Sharon’s fever broke.

Sharon never brought up their conversation again, and Alaska had followed her lead, grateful for the silence on the subject. Emotions had been running high - Alaska had barely been able to think, much less say things that she truly meant. She would have said anything to get Sharon to live, and that had resulted in some weird confessions. And another almost kiss.

Again: emotions had been running high.

But no matter how hard Alaska tries to brush the night away, it sticks to her like glue, and her heart still beats a little faster when she lies down next to Sharon at night, or when Sharon still comes just a little too close to her when they’re out of the tent. She finds herself wanting to hold Sharon’s hand again, to reassure herself with the other woman’s solidity. She finds herself staring at Sharon’s mouth more than once, the ghost of her dream that first night in Sharon’s tent on her lips.

Something had shifted within her the moment she’d confessed her change to Sharon, and she resents it.

She’s been avoiding Sharon, at least the best that she can in a camp made up of only eight women, if only to save herself from falling further into this thing she’s feeling any more than she already has. It’s hard, however, when the object of her feelings seems to find her every other hour.

“Lasky,” Sharon says, sitting next to Alaska on the log she’s been on for the past few hours, nose deep in one of Jinkx’s novels. She pretends like her heart doesn’t lurch at the nickname. “The food supply is so bad, Katya’s letting me go hunting! Can you believe it?”

“I can,” Alaska says, pretending to still be reading even though her eyes have been glued on “farm” since the moment she sensed Sharon coming over. “And I care why?”

“Because you’re coming with me.”

Alaska looks up from Northanger Abbey. “What? No.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t make me go with you, Sharon.”

“I can make you do whatever I want,” Sharon says staunchly, but there’s little force behind the words. “I thought you wanted to learn to shoot.”

Alaska hesitates. “I want to read,” she says after a moment. The reminder had served to bring forth the catastrophe that was the field in her memory, and she still feels a sick churning in her gut at the thought of what she had almost done.

“You need to learn to protect yourself,” Sharon starts, and Alaska raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the point of our deal if I have to protect myself anyway?”

Sharon’s eyebrows jump up. “After that fiasco with Jinkx’s pistol–?”

“That fiasco,” Alaska interrupts, irritation sparking in her chest, “is the reason I don’t want to shoot. I don’t have to shoot, and I won’t.”

“God forbid,” Sharon says, clearly annoyed. “We wouldn’t want you soiling your mind with the knowledge of how to aim a pistol.”

“God forbid,” Alaska agrees, and she opens her book again.

“I’m worried about you,” Sharon says, and Alaska frowns, glancing back up at her.

“What?”

“I’m not invulnerable. Why do you think you needed to be the one shooting in the first place?”

Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth, silent.

“I’ll protect you, Alaska - I keep my word, and even if you shoot like a goddamn gunslinger, I’ll shoot before you have to. But even with that, it might be better for you if you know how to shoot first.”

Alaska looks at Sharon, taking in the urgency in her eyes and the soft, serious pout of her lips. It’s another moment before she remembers to tear her eyes away.

“Alright,” she concedes, and Sharon’s bright grin almost makes it worth it.

“We can take Cerrone - though I hope there’s no bad memories associated with him. You know, beca–”

“Fuck off.”

Sharon cackles, and Alaska’s chest swells at the sound. This is not a good sign, and it isn’t a good idea to be going out alone with Sharon, if she wants to kill her feelings.

But she wants to be alone with Sharon again, wants to give into the intense attraction that has been lingering between them since they met, and she has the perfect excuse for it.

Her temptations are getting easier and easier to give into, and she can’t quite bring herself to dislike it.

🌸

“Be careful with how you hold that - I love a good scar, but I’m not too eager to get another one just yet.”

“I’m not - I’m not incompetent, Sharon. I know how to point it away from you.”

“Then fucking point it away from me!”

Alaska huffs, frustration a seemingly permanent pressure in her chest as she turns from Sharon to the beer bottles they have lined up. Approximately none have been shattered in the hour they’ve been trying, the idea of actually hunting forgotten, and Alaska is close to giving up.

She fires again, and the sound of a bullet hitting a tree cracks through the forest loudly. No birds scatter - Alaska’s already scared them all off.

“Damn it!” she snaps, tempted to throw the gun to the ground in anger. “Why can’t I fucking get this?”

“It takes time,” Sharon says from her position leaning against Cerrone, a bemused smirk on her face. “You won’t get it immediately.”

“We’ve been here an hour, I’ve had plenty of time,” Alaska shoots back heatedly. She aims again. The bullet hits the log the bottles rest on, and one of the bottles wobbles and falls over with the vibrations. Sharon claps.

“One down!”

“You’re close enough that I’m pretty sure I can shoot you with this,” Alaska threatens, and Sharon laughs.

“Here,” she says, walking over to Alaska. “Show me how you’re aiming.”

“Why don’t you just show me again,” Alaska says tiredly. “Clearly, I’m not doing it right.”

“Alright,” Sharon says, and then suddenly her hands are on Alaska’s biceps, her leather gloves catching on the cotton of Alaska’s sleeve. “Stick your arms straight out in front of you.” She pushes Alaska’s arms up and out, running her hands down her arms to curl Alaska’s fingers over the trigger, cupping Alaska’s hands with her own.

“I didn’t mean ‘act as my puppeteer’,” Alaska says quietly, trying not to blush.

“Well, just watching me do it didn’t help,” Sharon says, hand still resting on Alaska’s wrists. Her tone is serious, but the corner of her mouth is curving upwards, a pleased gleam in her eyes. “Clearly, you need a heavier hand.”

The blush succeeds in crawling across her cheeks. “Okay,” Alaska says, ignoring Sharon’s comment and the way it makes her stomach flutter. She takes a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to slow down. It doesn’t work. “And now what?”

“Now…” Sharon trails off, stepping behind Alaska and pressing so close her breath ghosts along the side of Alaska’s face, her chin nearly resting on her shoulder. A hand comes to rest on Alaska’s hip, steadying her, and Alaska tries not to let her breath catch. Sharon’s warmth is overwhelming, and the strength that Alaska can feel in just Sharon’s hands is less frightening than it is safe.

She has to fight not to just relax back into the other woman, Sharon’s presence the only thing she can focus on - the only thing she wants to feel. She bites the inside of her cheek to bring herself out of it, focusing instead on the pain.

“Now,” Sharon says again, voice softer now that she’s close, “you line up the top of the barrel with where you want to hit the bottle. Take a breath. Shoot on the exhale.”

Alaska sucks in a deep breath, attempting to clear her head. Sharon’s hand over her hip isn’t helping.

She lines up the revolver, and she fires.

The glass shatters, and Alaska feels a spike of excitement in her chest, grinning.

“There,” Sharon says, and she steps away from Alaska to go investigate the damage. It suddenly feels like Alaska is missing some part of herself, her back cold now that Sharon isn’t pressed up against it, and it dampens the pride that’s rising in her chest. She shivers, and glares as Sharon’s back. She’s trying to get over this - this feeling, but it feels impossible with Sharon so close all the time.

She finds herself giving into it far too quickly once again.

“You said I made you feel safe,” she says quietly, as Sharon picks up a shard of green glass. She looks at Alaska through it, holding it over her eye like a monocle.

“Hm?”

“You said I made you feel safe,” Alaska says, raising her voice. “Right when your fever broke.” Sharon visibly pauses for a moment, expression stilling.

“I don’t remember,” she says after a beat, tossing the shard back into the grass and straightening up from where she’d crouched. She looks at Alaska steadily, expression unreadable.

The fact that she doesn’t have a tell is a tell in and of itself.

Alaska raises an eyebrow. “That sounds likely.”

“I had a fever, Alaska,” Sharon says, raising an eyebrow in return. “I don’t remember.”

Alaska bites her lip, her heart pounding. Sharon doesn’t seem like she would deny this - she’s been tempting Alaska the entire time, she’d said “you’re the only thing more beautiful than this”, her eyes had been nothing but vulnerable when she’d confessed to Alaska that she hadn’t been just that for a long time.

Sharon, Alaska is realizing, has worked her way into her heart.

It’s frightening.

“What’s the point of saying I’m teaching you to be vulnerable when you can’t even admit you said it?” Alaska asks, frustrated.

“What’s the point of being vulnerable when the other person pretends you don’t exist after you say it?” Sharon snaps back, and guilt shoots through Alaska like an arrow. So Sharon had noticed her avoidance - maybe even purposefully sabatoged it. Alaska’s chest warms at the thought, that Sharon might have missed her.

“Something jog your memory?” Alaska asks, not quite able to keep her pleasure out of her tone, and Sharon glares at her.

“Sure. I also remember you saying - you said I’d changed you. What happened to that?”

Alaska feels put on the spot, like a frightened deer - Sharon’s immediate denial suddenly makes a lot more sense. Alaska bites back her own denial, that she would have said anything as long as Sharon lived, but even saying that peels away a layer of her defense, shows too much vulnerability. She doesn’t think Sharon even realizes how small of a corner she’s put Alaska in.

“Well?” Sharon asks impatiently, and Alaska is abruptly aware of how long they’d been standing in silence.

“I asked you first,” she says petulantly, and Sharon’s lips tighten.

“Exactly,” she says. “I’m not the one who brought it up.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It’s exactly how it works.”

“I can wait here all day,” Alaska says, stubborn. She will not be the first one to crack.

Sharon deflates, something disappointed flickering across her face. Alaska feels a pang at the sight of it. “Well, I can’t,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What?”

“Let’s just go,” Sharon says, walking over to Cerrone. “This is pointless.” Alaska catches her wrist as she passes, her heart lurching at the prospect of leaving this unfinished.

“Stop,” she says, and Sharon looks at her, expression unreadable.

“I’m not going to–”

“Hold on,” Alaska says, formulating her thoughts. She thinks she understands Sharon’s reluctance - it’s hard for her to be vulnerable, but she imagines it’s even harder when the woman she wants to be vulnerable with won’t give her anything in return. Alaska needs to extend her hand first - offer something before she can take any more.

Alaska needs to make a deal.

She sucks in a long breath. “You have changed something in me,” she starts, and Sharon’s eyebrows jump up in surprise, her mouth slightly opening. “I - I mean look at me.” She takes her hand off of Sharon and motions to herself, to the gun at her hip. “I wouldn’t have touched this gun that first night. I wouldn’t have asked to learn to shoot, and I wouldn’t be asking to know you.”

Sharon’s eyes soften. “Alaska–”

“And it - it runs deeper than that. I–” Alaska takes a deep breath, stumbling over her words and close to tears. “I almost don’t want to go back to New York. There’s - I can breathe here.”

There’s a long pause in the conversation, and Alaska can hear the birds beginning to chirp again, the warm summer breeze rustling the pines and the underbrush. Evening light casts long shadows across Sharon’s face as she looks at Alaska, her lips curved in the barest of smiles.

“I feel safe with you,” she says, stepping closer, “because you have the pieces I’m missing. You’re cautious. You’re sneaky. You’re so expressive, and you don’t even know it. You’re the decision I don’t even think to make.” She stops just inches away, her eyes never straying from Alaska’s. She tilts her hat up, and her eyes dart to Alaska’s lips. Alaska leans forward, spellbound. “Before this camp, this life, I couldn’t tell anyone anything. I feel like I could tell you everything.”

“Tell me a secret, then,” Alaska says softly, her heart pounding. Only one thing is running through her mind: Sharon. “The biggest one you kept.”

Sharon smirks. “The biggest one I kept would have been this.”

She leans in, and she captures Alaska’s mouth in a soft kiss.

Alaska’s brain short circuits, and all she feels is an overwhelming sense of finally.

Sharon cups Alaska’s cheeks, her leather gloves soft against her skin and surprisingly gentle. Alaska buries her hands in Sharon’s hair, running her fingers through it, unable to stop herself from moaning softly into their kiss, her belly warm and fluttering. She can smell the pine trees and the earth, and she drinks them in, Sharon’s warmth underneath her hands and her lips.

They part for a moment, Sharon starting to smile too much to sustain any more kissing, and Alaska laughs a little, happiness overriding any regret she might have felt otherwise. “This is why I avoided you all week.”

“Don’t act like you can resist my charm,” Sharon says, smug, and then they’re kissing again.

Alaska is sure she’ll have the time to regret this later, but for now, all she can feel is happiness and a relief that traces back eleven years.

🌸

Alaska does have the time to regret it later, and the bite of it is sharp.

Kissing Sharon had been a mistake.

A comforting, wonderful, natural mistake that still makes her heart flutter and her chest swell with joy, but still a mistake.

She can’t stay here at the camp, she can’t live this life, and she can’t fall for Sharon, if she hasn’t already. It isn’t an option.

She hadn’t lied to Sharon in the forest - she doesn’t want to return to New York, back to its suffocation and responsibilities and invasive society. But she still has to. She has duties to her father, and to her mother. She doesn’t stop being a daughter just because she’s found a place full of women who have.

For god’s sake, her stomach still churns at the memory of pointing the revolver at the man on the ridge. She can’t shoot to– she can’t do what’s necessary to stay, to live this life. She doesn’t belong here.

As she stares into the fire, however, listening to the women of the camp laugh and eat with each other, she finds herself longing to stay. She feels detached from them, like an outsider. It’s because she is.

She wishes she wasn’t.

“Are you okay?”

Alaska jumps at the sound of Sharon’s voice, whipping her head around to stare at the other woman, who has a slight frown on her face.

“Jesus,” she says, heart still pounding. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“When do I not?” Sharon asks drily, and Alaska lets out a snort.

“You should try to give me a break some time.”

“Mhm,” Sharon says, tilting her head, her eyes crinkling. “Maybe you and Jinkx could take turns.”

“Funny,” Alaska says. “I don’t think Jinkx has gotten a break since she met you.”

“She might now,” Sharon says, and the insinuation feels like a slap in the face. They’d fallen so easily into conversation that she’d forgotten -

“I can’t stay here,” she blurts out, and Sharon stares at her, shocked.

“What?”

“I–” Alaska cuts herself off, suddenly unable to meet Sharon’s eyes. She looks into the fire instead, a pit of dread already yawning in her chest. “I should be honest with you.”

“What?” Sharon asks again, but now, her voice is flat. “Let me guess: you don’t like women?”

Alaska laughs even as the question startles her, her instinctive need to deny it on the tip of her tongue. “No,” she says instead, and she thinks it’s the closest she’s going to come to admitting it out loud. “But I - I don’t belong here.”

“Of course you belong here,” Sharon says, derisively. “You certainly don’t belong in New York.”

“No, I don’t,” Alaska says, and she can’t help the way her voice wobbles. “I don’t belong anywhere, it feels like. But I still have to go back.”

“Why?” Sharon sounds exasperated, something like worry and anger edging into her tone. “For your father? So you can get him more money to stack onto his pile?”

“I have a duty–”

“Fuck duty!” Sharon exclaims, and Alaska flinches at the sudden volume. “Sorry,” Sharon says immediately, and she touches Alaska’s shoulder. It takes all of her willpower not to lean into it.

“You don’t understand,” Alaska whispers, tears in her eyes. She’s too embarrassed to even wipe them away, sick of being so vulnerable and weak in front of this woman. She wants to be strong for her, but she can’t. It’s just further proof that she isn’t suited for this, no matter what Sharon says. “My father–”

“I understand more than you think,” Sharon interrupts, and Alaska turns to look at her, irritation snapping in her chest.

“Are you willing to share?” she asks, and Sharon falls silent, something like guilt flickering across her face. “That’s what I thought,” Alaska says, even as disappointment sinks like a lead weight into her stomach. “I can’t – I can’t stay for someone who doesn’t even trust me, Sharon.”

“But I can’t be the reason you stay,” Sharon says, grabbing Alaska’s hand. Alaska lets her. “This life - it’s something you have to want. And you want it.”

“I never said that,” Alaska says, breath quickening and feeling exposed. “I–”

“I can see it in your eyes,” Sharon says, her eyes darting all over Alaska’s face, something urgent and determined filling her expression. “You don’t have to say it. Not like you would, anyway.”

“Because I can’t say it,” Alaska snaps. “You think you know me, but you have–” she’s tripping over her words, and it’s only making her more frustrated. “I don’t belong here, Sharon. I don’t get to want it. I can’t even - I can’t approve of what you do here, much less do it myself. I don’t – I can handle getting married-” she ignores the way Sharon’s hand suddenly tightens in hers, “-and pretending to be happy. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

“You’re just scared.”

“No, I’m just realistic.”

“You think this isn’t real?” Sharon says, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“Not for me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sharon snaps, and Alaska shrugs, willing her tears back down.

“I’ve been called worse,” she says, and a flicker of hurt and surprise moves across Sharon’s face.

“I didn’t–”

“I know,” Alaska says, “but it’s still true.”

They fall quiet, and Alaska has just enough time to register how alone they are before Sharon breaks the silence.

“There’s a robbery tomorrow,” Sharon says suddenly. “Come with us.”

Alaska frowns. “Sharon–”

“Think of it as a tester,” Sharon barrels ahead, ignoring Alaska’s protest. “To see if you can handle it.”

“I can’t,” Alaska says, although she’s tempted. The desire makes her stomach twist with preemptive guilt. “Innocent people? I can’t do that. You can’t ask me to do that.”

“Since when have wealthy people ever been innocent?”

“I’m wealthy,” Alaska says, and Sharon raises an eyebrow.

“Your point?”

They stare at each other for a moment, Sharon clearly nowhere near backing down, and Alaska can feel herself growing used to the idea. She allows herself to think it through: if she can’t handle it, Sharon will be forced to recognize how much this isn’t going to work. And if she can - well. She’ll cross that bridge later.

If Alaska keeps her hopes low, the idea isn’t a bad one.

“No killing,” Alaska says, finally giving in and looking Sharon in the eyes. “I can’t - just, no killing.”

Sharon grins sharply. “I’ve never killed a man in my life.”

It’s clearly a lie, but Alaska can’t bring herself to care. She’s already almost lost this woman once - she doesn’t want to be the reason she loses her again, not when they’ve just started something new.

If wanting Sharon is breaking the law, why does it matter if she breaks a few more?

#rpdr fanfiction #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #jinkx monsoon #katya zamolodchikova #shalaska #western au #cowboy au #lesbian au #wild flower #freyja #tw guns #tw severe illness

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